


Saving Grace 2: The Power Within

by girlattherockshow



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Asgard (Marvel), Babies, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Good Odin (Marvel), In which Odin is not awful, Jotun sex, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Marriage, No Damsels in Distress Here, Parent Loki (Marvel), Pregnancy, Redemption, Romance, Sex, Sexytimes, Smut, Tony wants Odin’s stuff, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlattherockshow/pseuds/girlattherockshow
Summary: Set six months after the events in Saving Grace, Loki Laufeyson, Grace Lawson, and Grace's daughter, Amy, celebrate their relationship on Asgard.  And then to their surprise, there's a second cause for celebration.But Thanos promised Loki that his failure to obtain the Tesseract would mean a pain worse than death.  He hasn't forgotten about that promise... and Loki must turn to the Avengers for help when what he loves most is threatened.





	1. Ethereal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe it's been five years since I finished Saving Grace, but here we are. And with the release of Endgame, I've finally found the motivation to write the long-promised sequel. I'm hoping I'll be able to update this fairly regularly, but until the bar exam in July, this may be the only chapter that gets published. I hope you guys enjoy this, and of course, for those who haven't read Saving Grace, I highly recommend you do so, or this fic won't make sense.
> 
> Song: "From the Ground Up" by Dan + Shay

Grace didn’t know how many times she had packed, unpacked, and re-packed the two suitcases in front of her, but she did know that doing it again would only make her more nervous. She had only been on this trip once, six months ago, and that had been, well, unexpected. Having two weeks’ notice, she thought she would be prepared by the time Loki arrived to pick them up, but somehow, there didn’t seem to be any good way to pack. It’s not like there was a Zagat’s Guide to Asgard, and Loki had been away all this time, so she couldn’t very well ask him. Finally, she had settled on a suitcase of clothing each for her and their two-year-old daughter, Amy, along with a smaller bag of the little girl’s toys and books. While she was fretting over whether she’d accounted for all types of weather (who knew what the climate in outer space was like?), Amy played with a doll Loki had given her. The doll, actually, looked precisely like her, but almost appeared to have an ethereal glow around her, like she had spent some time playing in the atmosphere herself. She checked her watch. Loki should have been there already. It wasn’t really anything to worry about—traveling from space took time, after all—but she was antsy. It had only been two weeks, but this was the longest they’d been without seeing each other in months. She missed him, which surprised her. Two years ago, she never thought she would have anyone to miss.

When she first met Loki, he had given her a name that was not his, a fictional story, to hide who and what he truly was—the madman who had tried to conquer Earth but was only stopped because a group of superheroes had intervened. In the chaos of that battle, a man had broken into Grace’s apartment and raped her. That was, in fact, how she came to be a mother. As if that wasn’t crazy enough (superheroes? Really?) through a series of very odd coincidences, Loki ended up living with Grace, under that assumed identity. Everything changed then; he had helped her feel alive again, softened her heart, loved her child. And when the trial came, when she was forced to testify against the man who tore her apart, Loki was the one to bandage the wounds. In return, he had changed over that year, from a bitter, angry, selfish soul to a man so full of empathy and warmth that she trusted him with the most precious thing in the world to her.

And then, it almost fell apart. She eventually discovered who he was and was ready to cut him out of her life entirely—a decision that he later acknowledged would have been completely justified. But after some convincing by several people, including a few that didn’t particularly like him, she had realized that even gods aren’t perfect. She had forgiven him in spite of herself, with the promise of a new beginning on a balcony in Asgard as he held the daughter that had gone from “hers” to “theirs” in his arms. So it was that memory she held in her mind’s eye as she answered a knock on her door, wondering why he wouldn’t simply come into the home they shared. Amy dropped the doll as soon as Grace opened the door. Expecting to see tall, dark, and lanky, they were surprised to be greeted by strong, blond, and muscley.

“Thor!” Grace exclaimed. “What in the world—?”

Before he could answer, Amy pulled herself to her feet and ran toward him. It seemed, despite having only seen him once, she remembered that he was, in effect, her uncle. She grabbed onto one of his enormous legs as he gave them both a devilish smile.

“Lady Grace.” He kissed her hand as he always did, even though she had told him a hundred times that his formality was unnecessary. Then, he reached down and picked up Amy as though she weighed as little as the wind. “And to you, young Amy.” Amy looked delighted.

She stepped aside to allow him in. “What are you doing here?”

He set his umbrella—a magical disguise for Mjolnir—down on the bench near the doorway and Amy next to it. “I apologize for the change in plans, Lady”—he stopped as she shot him a look—“uh, Grace. But Loki had business to attend to, urgently. He asked me to apologize, and to assure you that he will be waiting for you on your arrival.” She attempted to hide it, but Thor could sense her disappointment. He gave her an encouraging smile. “For what it is worth, I have never seen my brother as impatient as he has been these last weeks.” Somehow, he always knew the right things to say.

She returned the smile. “I’m glad I’m not the only one,” she said, grabbing her purse. “I imagined he was too busy with the tournaments to think much about us.”

“Hardly,” Thor replied. “Loki’s duties in that regard were purely ceremonial, while Father and I were occupied on Muspelheim. The tournaments are indeed a great tradition, but not nearly all-consuming.”

Loki had been called home to assist with the Warrior Tournaments, an annual tradition in Asgard, during which the greatest fighters in the realm compete for a handsome reward—a golden sword made by the dwarves of Svartenheim, and a modest sum of silver. She knew he hated the tournaments, and only agreed to preside over them because Odin and Thor could not. After his exile had ended, he was determined to show his gratitude, including performing ceremonial duties like this, no matter how boring or annoying he found them. She suspected there was another reason, however. He had come so close to losing his families, both the one that adopted him and the one he’d built with Grace, that he wanted to make up for all the ways in which he had taken them for granted.

“Well, that’s good to know.” She helped Amy into her jacket. “God knows I’ve gotten so used to being a two-parent household that I need him to have the energy to handle this one for a while. I need a nap!”

Thor laughed and picked up the suitcases and his umbrella. “I’m quite certain your particular god does know.”

Grace gave a last look around the apartment, making sure the coffee maker was off, the thermostat down, the candles blown out. Once she was satisfied that the apartment wouldn’t explode while they were gone, she grabbed Amy’s bag of toys and slung it over her shoulder. “Okay,” she said to Amy, taking her hand, “ready to go see Daddy?”

* * *

The trip was as bumpy as Grace remembered it, although Amy seemed to enjoy herself as much as last time. Grace loved traveling, but she decidedly preferred to do it by plane. At least they stuck the landing this time; she managed to enter the observatory upright. Heimdall, the gatekeeper of Asgard, smiled warmly at them, his golden eyes alarmingly bright against his dark skin. “Welcome back to Asgard, Lady Grace,” he said.

She didn’t really think there was a chance of stopping him calling her that, even if she asked politely, so she returned his smile and nodded. “Glad to be back.” She then took Amy up in her arms so that they could cross the Bifrost to the palace without risking her falling over the unguarded edge. “How are you, Heimdall?”

He seemed slightly taken aback by the question. Grace supposed it was rarely asked of him. “I am well. I pray you enjoy your visit here.”

“Shall we make our way to the palace?” Thor asked, having somehow changed from his “earth clothes” to his Asgardian garb, including Mjolnir in place of the umbrella. He picked the suitcases back up with ease, and carried them on his broad shoulders, Mjolnir secured on his belt somehow.

“Sounds good. I’m exhausted, and it is  _way_  past this one’s bedtime. We have about half an hour until a meltdown.”

As they walked, Thor told her of the arrangements that had been made for her time here. She and Amy would share a chamber, but that there was a separate nursery in the chamber so she could sleep alone. She would have a servant for any need she might have, although he knew perfectly well that she would not use a servant if she could avoid it. There would be an elaborate feast the following evening in honor of her visit. Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed an odd look on her face for just a moment.

“Grace, is something troubling you?”

“No. No, why do you ask?”

“You seem displeased.”

She scolded herself. She usually had better control of her face. “Oh, Thor, I’m sorry. It’s just all a little strange for me. The last time there was a feast in my honor, it was my bat mitzvah.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not familiar with that feast.”

“Nevermind. I’m just tired. We both are.” She gestured to Amy, who had fallen asleep on Grace’s shoulder.

He smiled. “It won’t be long now.”

They walked the rest of the way in relative silence, as Grace took in the details she had missed on her mad dash to the palace the last time she had visited. Contrary to popular belief, there were places near New York City where you could see stars, but even the darkest, clearest sky wouldn’t give you the starlight that Asgard held. Everywhere around her were twinkling lights of all sizes, set against an inky sky. The bridge itself was surrounded by a vast sea, which ended in a waterfall draining into space near the observatory. She wondered if that was where Loki had fallen into the abyss that had warped his mind but knew better than to ask. Ahead of them, there were dozens of mountains with buildings and columns seemingly built right into them. Although it was completely dark this far out, the sun was still setting on the horizon, giving the city a gauzy haze around it, bouncing the dying light between shining pyramids of gold. And, at the very center of the city, there stood a towering, golden palace that looked very much like an organ you might see in a Catholic church. This, she knew from the book about Norse mythology that Loki had given Amy, was Valhalla.

After what seemed like an entire day’s journey, they arrived at the palace. The guards at the grand entrance immediately stepped aside, and no sooner had they walked through the doors did two servants appear, taking the luggage and carrying it away. She was finally, mercifully, able to put Amy down, and immediately the little girl took off down the long, marble hallway, not stopping until she tripped over her own feet.

“She is quite spirited,” Thor observed with a smile. “No doubt a trait she gets from her mother.”

“Actually, I think the klutziness is me. The self-confidence, well, she gets that from Loki.” She chased Amy down—not difficult, as the girl had stopped to admire herself in one of the gold pillars that lined the hallway—and by the time she turned around, Thor had caught up.

“Shall I take you to your chambers, then?”

“Of course,” she replied, “but isn’t that someone else’s job?” She meant a servant, but he took it another way.

“Ordinarily, I would say yes, but my brother appears to have been delayed further. I will be happy to walk with you in his stead.”

“Okay.” She detected something in Thor’s voice that told her he knew exactly why Loki was late, but she elected not to ask. Whatever it was that had kept him, she imagined, there was a reason she was not being told.

They walked through endless hallways and around several corners as they made their way to the living quarters. She hoped she would be able to remember the way back, trying to take note of any kind of “landmark.” There was a suit of armor here, a tapestry there, a balcony overlooking a vast garden, but when they arrived at a grand staircase, she knew they were close. Upstairs, she found herself staring down yet another long corridor, but the walls here were dotted with enormous doors instead of lined with gold. It was also dimly lit, as if to suggest a permanent evening.

“Yours is the first on the left,” he said. “Your belongings should be there already.”

He passed by her, cape billowing behind him without any wind at all, and pushed open the door. She followed him in, again carrying Amy, who was, after the long walk, back asleep. Immediately, she was awestruck. This room was even more beautiful than she remembered Loki’s being. The first thing she noticed was a roaring fireplace, and a plush fur rug in front of it.  _Just like a movie,_  she thought. There was also a thin, clear grate in front of the flames, one that did not obstruct their ambiance but still provided protection. It was just like Loki to think of their daughter’s safety first. Speaking of that, she desperately needed to put Amy down. The sleeping girl’s weight was becoming more difficult to bear by the second. Sensing this, Thor gestured to an open door next to the fireplace. “Through there,” he said. “There is also a bath chamber if you would like to refresh yourself.” Then, he excused himself, leaving her and Amy to retire for the evening.

“Thank you,” she whispered, although he was already gone. Passing through the large bathroom on her way to put Amy to bed, she made a mental note to return to see if there was any Asgardian approximation of bath bombs in any of the cupboards that lined the far wall. Upon entering the nursery, she was awestruck. Someone had taken the time to set up a beautiful, oak crib with gauzy, silver drapes hanging around it, suspended from the ceiling. The lights were already dimmed, as if whoever had done this had predicted Amy would be asleep by the time they arrived. The sound of running water, like a waterfall, was coming from somewhere unknown. When she laid Amy in the crib, Grace pulled her tiny shoes and coat off, but didn’t try to undress the girl any further. She wasn’t about to wake her up and fight to get a cranky two-year-old into pajamas, especially not by herself. So, instead, she pulled the thick, crimson blanket over the sleeping child, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. Amy barely stirred, exhausted as she was, and Grace whispered, “Goodnight, my little love. I bet you Daddy will be here to wake you up tomorrow.” As she closed the door, she completed her thought. “At least, he  _better_  be.”

Stepping back into the now-empty main chamber, she was finally able to take it all in. The fire was still brightly burning, warming the room just enough to be comfortable. There was a beautiful desk in the far corner of the room, made, it seemed, from the same wood as the crib, with an oversized, padded armchair in front of it. The walls were carved with ancient battle scenes, intricate stories she was sure Loki would be able to tell her, because she remembered that his room had similar carvings. This room didn’t have the picturesque view of Asgard that his room had, as it was deep within the palace, but it did have a bed that looked just as comfortable. Actually, it looked even more comfortable than Loki’s bed, but probably only because she was more exhausted than she had been at her last visit. Even though she didn’t want to fall asleep, she thought there would be no harm just getting off her feet until Loki decided to make an appearance. Her luggage was only a few steps away from the bed, but she was so tired that unpacking anything was out of the question. So she just kicked off her sneakers, slipped off her socks, and hopped—literally, because the bed was so high off the floor—onto the bed.

She laid down on top of the royal purple duvet, sinking into the feather pillows under her head. The blanket was so soft, sort of like velvet but not as fuzzy, and the mattress was almost made for the lines of her body. But when she looked up at the ceiling was when it truly hit her that she was in another world. Directly above the bed was an image of a night sky, just like the one outside, but this wasn’t a still image. The stars were actually twinkling, some of them appearing to burst into existence before her eyes. She was mesmerized, and felt peaceful, still, and warm. And just as she thought she was going to drift off under the blanket of this little universe above her head, she heard footsteps, and then a slightly annoyed, familiar voice with a lilting accent.

“I asked them to give you a room with a view, but since I was apparently ignored, I decided to create one for you.”

“Loki!” She couldn’t get into his arms fast enough, and he laughed as she nearly fell off the bed in the process.

“I have missed you, my love,” he said, pressing her against him.

She didn’t realize how much she had missed him, truly, until she felt his hands on the small of her back and smelled the sweetness of his skin, like almonds and honey and a hint of icy mint. He wasn’t wearing his full Asgardian “battle suit,” but he also wasn’t wearing what he wore on Earth. It was a hybrid of the two, a black coat with a high collar and black slacks. Underneath the coat, however, she could see the hint of a forest green button-down shirt she’d bought him when he first came back to live with her. It brought a smile to her face to know that he had taken it with him and worn it in the presence of his family, who, other than Thor, she had still not met. “I missed you, too.”

It occurred to him that his first instinct was not to kiss her, although he wanted to desperately, but to simply hold her, smell her hair, feel her body curved against his. He sometimes tried to pinpoint the moment when he had begun to favor these intimacies over the pleasure of sexual release, but the truth was that it did not much matter. He loved Grace well before he ever bedded her, and that love had only grown in the last year. She pried herself away from his shoulder to look into his eyes. He took her face in his hands, then, and finally did kiss her, deep and hard and full of lust. He had almost forgotten how soft her lips were. But he heard her sigh, one of sleepiness rather than passion. He pulled back, glancing at the indentation on the pillow. “You must be exhausted. Was your trip uneventful?”

“Relatively,” she said, “as trips to outer space go.”

“And our child?”

Whenever he referred to Amy as “their” child or “his” daughter, Grace felt her heart pound just a little harder. She was once extremely possessive of her daughter, and never wanted to share the job of “parent” with anyone. But when she watched Loki with Amy, tender, patient, and kind, she couldn’t help it; she gave up the piece of herself she held most precious and sacred. “She’s asleep in the nursery. I think she might actually sleep through the night!”

He laughed. “Well, that would be a miracle. Would you mind—”

“She’s yours too, Loki,” Grace said, a smile on her lips. “You don’t have to ask my permission.”

He kissed her gently this time and headed toward the room where Amy lay sleeping. He opened the door as quietly as he could, trying not to wake his daughter from what he was sure was a deep sleep. The room was just as he had prepared it. The sound of water was as soothing to him as it was to her, bringing back memories of time spent as a child by the river near the edge of the realm, conjuring snakes to throw at Sif. The drapes around the crib shimmered, even though the light was dim. He wondered if Grace had figured out that his “important business” that had required him to stay behind had actually been completing this nursery. He crept toward the crib, taking every step as lightly as his six-foot-seven frame would allow. Amy barely stirred. Her curly, red hair fell carelessly around her face, lips barely parting as she snored quietly. He stood gazing at her for a moment, wishing he could freeze time as easily as he could freeze anything else he touched: at will. When, he wondered, had she gotten so big? Surely, she couldn’t have grown so much in just two weeks. He thought back to the infant she had been when he met her. She had the smallest hands, even by Midgardian standards, and he reached into the crib to take one in his own. Again, she didn’t stir.

“My darling,” he whispered, little more than a breath, “have the sweetest dreams.” At this, she moved, but only barely, as if to assure him that she fully intended to.

* * *

“Is she still asleep?” Grace asked when Loki returned to the main chamber.

“She is.” He removed his coat and draping it over the armchair. “I am surprised that you are not.”

At that, she climbed off the bed and met him in the middle of the room, pulling him to her. She kissed him, sweet and slow and full of longing, and put his hands on her hips. “I am tired,” she agreed, “but not  _that_  tired.”

“Good,” he said, winding his hands through her hair, knowing what she wanted. The first time they made love, he had been almost afraid to touch her, worried he would hurt her in some unintended way. Since then, she had opened herself to him, in a million ways, including under his touch. She would grab him in the hallway in their tiny apartment and run her hands down his spine, her way of telling him she needed him. Sometimes, he would take her to the bedroom and make love to her as tenderly as he had that first time. He would take his time, kiss every single inch of her, worship her as if she were a goddess. She would, without fail, come undone for him, arch her back, moan so softly that he almost couldn’t hear her when she whispered his name.  _His_  name. Not the name created for him when he was deceiving the universe about his true nature, when he had first met her. Nothing ever sounded more beautiful to him than the first time she spoke it.

But sometimes? Sometimes their sex was simply feral, full of desperation and need and lust. He still couldn’t look at their kitchen table without becoming aroused. Oddly, it was those moments he knew she loved and trusted him completely. That she allowed him intensity, even roughness, in their lovemaking, given all that she had been through, meant everything to him.

She hesitated. “What if we wake her up?”

He grinned a sly smile and led her to the bed. “Are you worried”—he kissed from her shoulder to her jawline—“that you will not be able to control your moans, darling?”

“You’re cute when you’re trying to tease me,” she replied. “I’m not saying she’ll see us or even understand what we’re doing, but…”

“But?”

“But I don’t want to be interrupted!” She felt a measure of guilt at this admission, placing her physical desires over her child’s needs. But with his mouth moving across her collarbone, the guilt melted away second by second.

“Well,” he said, straightening himself, to her surprise and disappointment, “I can surely understand that concern. I suppose, then, that we are both lucky that I am a proficient sorcerer.” With a wave of his hand, a gold stream of light shot into the air toward the illusion of night above the bed. Suddenly, the stars fell from the ceiling and melted together to form a sheer, silver barrier between them and the rest of the world.

“This,” she replied, “is why I love you.”

He took a step back toward her, pushing her back onto the bed. Then, he took her calves in his hands, lifting them to link her ankles around his hips and back. “Are you sure that is the only reason?”

With that, she pulled him forward with her legs so that he came down on top of her. He braced himself with his hands to keep his weight off her, but that didn’t stop her from feeling other parts of him pressed against her. “Oh,” she sighed as she drew him into a deep, slow kiss, “I suppose there are probably other reasons…but I might need a reminder.”


	2. A Question of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Believe it or not, I got chapter two finished THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BAR EXAM. So here you go - please enjoy while I go suffer through three days of exhaustion, anger, tears, and misery. Upshot: you'll get a new chapter soon because I'll need to work out my rage on my characters. ;)
> 
> Song: "Something About the Way You Look Tonight" by Elton John

Grace awoke the next morning to a sunrise where the night sky had been. Loki never did anything half-heartedly. What surprised her, however, was that he was not in bed next to her. Usually they got up together to the sound of Amy asking to be brought from her room. Speaking of which, she didn’t hear a peep from the nursery, which meant either Loki’s sound-blocking spell was stronger than she’d realized, or Amy was also still asleep. Somehow, the former seemed more realistic.

She pulled herself off the bed, taking the sheet with her as a makeshift robe. Upon entering the nursery, she discovered neither scenario was the case—Amy was nowhere to be found, which meant she was already roaming the palace with Loki. This ordinarily wouldn’t have bothered her, except that in her current environment, she had no idea where to begin looking for them. In fact, she didn’t even really know if she could even remember her way back to where she and Thor had entered the previous evening. She wondered if maybe she could summon that servant Thor had mentioned to ask how to get around Asgard.

As if on cue, she heard a knock from the other room. She returned to the main chamber and cracked the door just slightly, as she was still clutching the sheet precariously to her body. A young, maybe twenty-five-year-old girl, wearing a long dress and apron curtsied.

“Good morning, Lady Grace,” she said, her voice soft but slightly nasally. “May I enter? I am Dagmar, your servant for your stay here.”

“Um…” Grace blushed, and not because she was all but naked in front of a total stranger. She was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of having a servant; she’d never even had a housekeeper! Her mother would sometimes try to clean the apartment she shared with Loki, and even  _that_  made her nervous. But she also suspected that refusing Dagmar would be an insult to Loki’s family, or, worse, cause trouble for the servant herself, so she nodded and stepped aside.

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” Dagmar asked.

Grace had never been so weirded out in her life, but she agreed. She had to give up her sheet so that the bed could be made anyway. Dagmar hurried off to the bathroom and shortly thereafter, Grace heard running water. She followed the sound and found Dagmar pouring oil into the tub, under the faucet. “What’s that?”

Dagmar smiled. “For your skin. We are not so different from your world.”

Grace returned the smile, curious as to how Dagmar would know about earthly bath products. She wondered if there was some kind of Midgardian history class in schools, like kids in New York learned about ancient Greece. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” Dagmar went to a closet and pulled a bathrobe out, holding it up so that Grace could discreetly shed the sheet and step into the robe. “Is there anything else you require before I attend to the chamber, Lady Grace?”

“One request,” Grace replied. “Please call me Grace. No ‘lady’ required.”

Dagmar looked as uncomfortable as Grace had been earlier. “But, I—”

“I know custom says otherwise—Thor has trouble with it too. But really, I prefer to be called just by my name. I’m not royalty, after all.”

“But you are as good as.”

The way she said it took Grace aback; there was just something strange about the phrasing. Being Loki’s partner would by nature make her a member of the upper class. But she felt more akin to Meghan Markle than Queen Elizabeth—someone who happened to be dating a royal, not someone bred to be royalty. “If you’re worried about Loki being angry, don’t,” she said. “I promise, if I tell him it’s what I want, it will be what he wants.”

“As you wish,” Dagmar replied, as she scooped up the sheet.

“Thank you. For the bath too.”

“It is an honor, La—” Dagmar stopped herself just as Thor had—“Grace.” When Grace was sure Dagmar had begun cleaning the main chamber, she slipped off the robe and eased herself into the bath. The water was steaming, but somehow not too hot, and the oil Dagmar had added tingled slightly on her skin. The room was filled with the aroma of vanilla and bergamot, and, as Grace relaxed, she felt overcome by emotion.

“Loki, I don’t know where you are, but this is the best morning you’ve ever given me.” She paused. “Well,  _almost_  the best.” And as she closed her eyes, although she knew she was alone, she could have sworn she heard a devilish laugh and seen a quick flash of green light in the mirror across the room.

* * *

“Daddy! Pony!” Amy grasped Loki’s hand—well, more like two of his fingers—and then pointed toward a large stallion in the stable. It was as black as his hair but had a shock of white running through its mane. He walked with her toward the horse, having to moderate his normally long stride to accommodate her short steps.

“Stallion, my love,” he gently prompted. Although Amy was only a little over two years old, he and Grace believed in treating her like a miniature adult.

“Stahyen,” Amy repeated, a child’s pronunciation but still trying to use the word.

Loki lifted her onto his shoulders and leaned down to allow her to gently pet the horse’s head, following his lead. “Would you like to know a secret about this stallion?” Amy nodded emphatically. “This stallion,” he said, “was the first one I ever rode.”

Amy’s eyes grew wide with wonder. “ _Yours_?”

“He still is,” Loki replied. “A bit too old to ride properly now, but I wouldn’t allow my father to”—he paused, considering his words carefully—“to send him to live with all the other old horses.”

“Do you still ride stahyons, Daddy?” Now she was trying to impress him, he knew. It was endearing, and he smiled at her effort.

“I don’t have a stallion anymore, I’m afraid.” He watched his old friend sniff and nudge his daughter’s hand, just as the stallion had done with him when he was a boy. “But I’m sure we can find one you can ride with me when you get just a bit bigger.”

Amy gasped the way only a child who has just been told she could have a pony of her own could. “Am I bigger now?”

“Too big,” Grace said, coming toward them from the palace grounds, her auburn-tinged hair blowing backwards as she walked. The wind had picked up that afternoon, reminding Loki how bitterly cold it was the night he met her. He hadn’t been as susceptible to it as others were, owing to his heritage, but he remembered the pink in Grace’s cheeks and the sight of her breath in the air, and it brought a smile to his lips.

“Mama!” Amy held her arms out, asking Grace to take her, and Grace obliged. She knew she wouldn’t have much longer to do this, as fast as Amy was growing. “Daddy says I get a stahyon!”

“Oh yeah?” Grace raised an eyebrow. “And did Daddy tell you where the stallion would live?”

“Well,” Loki said, his voice betraying his mischief, “being a prince has its benefits. Access to a stable is perhaps the least impressive but possibly the most important.”

“Ah, yes. That’s probably why I keep you around!”

“It clearly has nothing to do with my dashing good looks or excellent abilities in the—”

“Kitchen!” She gestured toward Amy with a jerk of her head. “You do make great spaghetti.”

He drew his hand up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps across her skin. “Yes, I believe I made a superb  _dinner_ last night. And you provided the most delicious dessert.”

She slapped his arm playfully and put Amy on the ground. “So what else do you have planned for the day besides making grand promises to our kid?”

“Well, as you know, we are attending the banquet tonight,” he replied, as the three of them began to walk toward the garden on the south side of the grounds. He knew Grace would love it there; summertime was her favorite time of year, despite its heat, because the trees would flourish and Central Park would be overcome with bright, bold colors and so many fragrant flowers that almost made up for the acrid smell of the humid city streets. She had no trouble making the nearly hour-long journey subway ride to Manhattan even on her days off from work, just to take Amy to see the turtles at Turtle Pond or to the zoo. Anything to be surrounded by nature.

Just then, Amy, who had run slightly ahead of them, called to him as they passed a group of warriors sparring in a courtyard. “Daddy?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Are they mad?”

Loki and Grace exchanged a look. “No,” he said. “What makes you think that?”

She pointed to the men who were, by then, locked together by their axes. “They’re fighting!” She looked genuinely distressed. Loki realized that, as a human, Amy had never seen sparring, while he had been exposed to it—even participated occasionally—practically since he was brought to Asgard. He had never been very good at it, but it was something expected of him as an Asgardian, and, even more so, as a prince.

“No, baby,” Grace interjected. “They’re just playing! You know, like you do with your friends when you pretend to be lions and tigers.”

“Your Uncle Thor and I used to do that,” Loki added. Amy’s eyes widened for the millionth time that day, as though she didn’t believe he and Thor could ever have been young too.

“Yeah, and you know how much Daddy and Uncle Thor love each other.” Grace glanced over at Loki to gauge his reaction. He seemed to be somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

As they reached their destination, Grace stopped short. Before her was the most beautiful, lush, colorful garden she had ever seen. There were flowers she had seen on Earth and flowers she was certain were only of Asgard. A canopy of trees—weeping willows, from the sight of them—lined the edges of the space, providing shade and privacy. There was a stone and gold fountain on the far end, and a tree that appeared to change from magenta to green to blue depending on the wind. She wondered if Loki had enchanted the tree himself or if that kind of thing was just normal here. “Loki, this is…”

She couldn’t even finish, because he took her by the waist and pulled her into him. Amy ran ahead, settling down under the colorful tree, content to play with blades of grass and leaves. Grace looked up at him, his arm as tight around her waist as her heart was in his hand. “This is my own private garden. Only those who know its location can see it.”

“That reminds me of the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter.”

“Where do you think I got it? It’s hard to believe that a mortal could have such a brilliant magical idea.”

Although he was smiling, Grace could see that it wasn’t the usual Cheshire grin he would have after pulling something like this off. Something seemed to be weighing on his mind. “Loki, what’s wrong?”

“Are you happy, Grace?”

“Oh, let’s see.” She looked skyward, as if considering his question. “I’m in another world with the two people I love most, in an unbelievably beautiful garden, and I got to take a long, uninterrupted bath this morning, to say nothing of the fact that I get to meet your family tonight at a banquet in a palace.” When he didn’t seem to understand her sarcasm, she said, “I think I’m content.”

“No,” he said, blinking hard. He looked toward the tree where Amy was still contentedly entertaining herself. “What I meant was, are you happy with me? With our life?” For the first time since he had revealed his true self to her, his voice was full of hesitation. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was fear.

She gently put her hand on his face and turned his head toward her again. “Loki, I have never been happier.” Then, she hesitated. “Okay, that’s not true. The only day I’ve been happier was February 19th, 2013.”

“Her birthday. Of course,” he replied, glancing at Amy again. “But…”

“But what?”

“I caused you a great deal of pain, Grace, even if you are content now.”

She smiled up at him, her hair falling over one eye, which he brushed back. “February 19th caused me a great deal of pain, too,” she said. “But I wouldn’t trade the joy I got from that pain for—”

“For all the nine realms?”

She kissed him. “For all the nine realms.”

* * *

“Damnit!” Grace sat at the vanity in the bathroom, staring at her reflection. What little makeup she wore was doing absolutely nothing for her that night. She had a little superstition that you could tell how an evening was going to go based on how well your hair and makeup worked. Of course, one of the benefits of her rarely wearing makeup or doing her hair was that in turn, she rarely had to formulate a prediction of the upcoming day.

Tonight, however, she was not only meeting Loki’s parents, but she was doing so at a formal banquet in front of half of Asgard. On top of that, Loki had a gown delivered to the chamber that was more beautiful than anything she had ever worn. It was made from gold fabric that seemed to be a combination of satin and jersey, with a sheer, mesh overlay that gave the gown the appearance of starlight. It wasn’t strapless, thank God—she didn’t have enough there to fill out anything strapless, even after pregnancy. Instead, the straps were wide enough to cover her shoulders with a slight wing over them, and the sweetheart neckline gave her just a bit of sex appeal. It fit her as if it had been made for her, and she was frustrated that her face wasn’t holding up its end of the bargain, with her hair not faring much better.

Dagmar appeared from behind her, stepping into view of the mirror. “What troubles you, Lady Grace?”

Grace sighed. “No one here is ever  _not_ going to call me that, are they?”

Dagmar winced at the rebuke. “I apologize.”

“Oh,” Grace said, more kindly this time, “I’m sorry. It isn’t you. I just can’t seem to make myself look human.”

“I believe you  _are_  human.”

Grace laughed. “That’s true. I’ll rephrase. I would like to look like an attractive human.”

Dagmar set down her stack of towels and stood behind Grace. “Well, I believe Prince Loki would argue that you are already quite beautiful, and he would not be wrong.”

“I appreciate that,” Grace said as she fiddled with her hair.

“May I?” Dagmar asked. Grace nodded, and the maid picked up a comb and some pins. She gathered sections of Grace’s hair and wove it into a pattern of curls and twists that finally began to look intentional.

“You have a real talent for this, Dagmar. Have you always liked doing hair?”

“Yes,” Dagmar said. “I have two sisters. I used to practice on them.”

“I wish I had a sister. My parents tried after me, but they just…couldn’t.”

“You have a lovely daughter, at least.”

“Yes, I do, but I’m sure she’ll also be an only child.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“Well,” Grace sighed, “I expect it would be quite difficult to have a child with someone who isn’t human.”

“I suppose so. However, I’ve never heard of anyone trying to, so I can’t be sure of that.”

Before long, Grace’s hair had been swept into a high ponytail with curls wrapped around it to form a polished but effortless-looking style. She marveled at how intricate it was without looking overdone. “Dagmar,” she said, “you really need to make this into a career.”

Dagmar shook her head and lowered her dark eyes. Suddenly, she looked as uncomfortable as Grace felt every time someone called her lady. “Thank you, but I am just a servant girl,” she said. “I am glad to have been at your service.”

“Thank  _you_. You have saved this evening from ruin.”

“It is my pleasure.” Dagmar gave a small curtsy and left the chamber.

“Okay,” Grace said to no one but herself, “I suppose looking half-human is better than not human at all.”

* * *

The knock on the door startled her, although it shouldn’t have, given that Grace knew it was Loki. She wasn’t entirely sure why he insisted on knocking before he entered her room. He obviously didn’t do that at home in the apartment they shared. She wondered if perhaps he reverted to some of his formal manners and upbringing when he was at home for an extended period of time, kind of like how some people reverted to accents they had growing up when they visit home. She walked carefully to the door and flung it open. There he stood, adorned in his formal armor, sans horned helmet. She expected him to greet her as he usually did, with a kiss and a gentle squeeze to her waist—sometimes, when Amy wasn’t nearby, it would be a squeeze to her rear instead—but this time, he hesitated. He seemed almost in a trance, like he was struggling for words.

“You look…ethereal.”

She laughed. “That seems appropriate, given our location.”

He loved her laugh. It was honest and playful. He often thought there was no sound more beautiful. “Is Amy asleep?”

“Yes. Dagmar is with her. By the way, she’s—”

“Grace, I’m so sorry, but we must go. The Allfather detests tardiness. I’m afraid I learned that early in my childhood.” He extended his arm to her.

“Okay.” She took his arm and made a mental note to speak to him later about Dagmar’s talent.

They walked the palace in relatively silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Grace was nervous—she had heard a dozen stories about Odin, not all of them flattering. She wondered what Odin thought of his son, the prince, involved with a human. Would he be happy with the union? Would he want to meet Amy?

“Where did you go just now?” he asked. His soft voice somehow never managed to startle her, whether she was expecting it or not. Perhaps, she wondered, that was a sign of how comfortable she felt with him. Or maybe it was simply that his tone was always so gentle.

“I was just…thinking about Amy. Do you think she’s going to be okay? What if she wakes up?”

“If she should awaken, I have instructed the servant girl—”

“Dagmar,” Grace corrected. “Her name is Dagmar.”

“Right,” he said, a puzzled look on his face. “I have instructed her to inform us at once. But I do not think that is truly what you were thinking of.”

She smiled. “Sometimes I wonder if that magic of yours doesn’t include mind reading.”

“Would that it did,” he replied. “It might have saved me some trouble attempting to buy you a birthday gift last year.” Then, he stopped walking and turned toward her. On the wall opposite her, was a huge mirror, like something you would see in a period room at the Met. She momentarily admired the broadness of his shoulders, draped in green velvet and leather. Then, she came back to Earth. Well, almost.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Grace?” She could sense his disbelief.

“I—just—do you think they’ll like me?”

“They would not have invited you to stay in the palace otherwise.”

“They did that for your benefit. I don’t just mean will they be polite to me. I mean, will they like  _me_? Will they approve of us?”

He gave her his most mischievous smile, the one he knew could always reach her, melt her, comfort her. “As I told you, I have come to believe, finally, that my family have always wanted what is best for me. If they did not believe you to be what is best for me, they would not have permitted me to be part of your life when I met you. Thor alone threatened to stop me if I had hurt you.” When she did not reply, he said, “I promise you, this evening will be everything we both want it to be.”

“You seem to be telling yourself that as much as you’re telling me.”

He shook his head. “The only thing I need to tell myself is that I am the most fortunate man in all of Yggdrasil, because you are on my arm this evening.” With that, he again extended his arm to her, and she again took it, trusting him to lead the way.

* * *

“Lords and ladies of Asgard, I pray thee rise and give welcome to Prince Loki, Son of Odin, and Lady Grace Lawson.” She heard the announcement of their arrival before she realized they had been standing just outside the banquet hall.

“Ready?” Loki whispered.

“Just don’t leave me.” Suddenly, the huge, thick, walnut doors opened to a room that must have been the grandest in all Asgard. It was a combination of futuristic and medieval; the bright, gleaming gold and silver toned walls were offset by long, heavy tables made from the same wood as the doors. Great, iron chandeliers hung over each of the tables, adorned with soft hued lights—not candles, though they gave the same flickering glow. It was difficult to take in everything at once, not least of all because of the thundering applause as they entered. “Does this happen at every family dinner?”

“Only when I’ve done something very, very good,” he replied. As they proceeded down the aisle between the tables, she realized they were headed directly toward three individuals standing in front of a more elaborately decorated table with five equally ornate, padded chairs around it. She immediately recognized Thor, who was wearing his armor, similar to Loki’s but clearly more built for battle. Next to him was a statuesque woman with a warm smile, bright blue eyes, and wavy red hair cascading down her back. And finally, a stocky but powerful looking man, with an impressive white beard and a gold eye patch over his right eye that matched the armor he wore. He honestly looked like a battle-ravaged Santa Claus. The thought made her smile, which was probably good, since otherwise she likely would have already passed out from sheer terror. She’d only ever met the parents of one boyfriend, and that had been a chance meeting at temple during a book sale in high school. That was a far cry from meeting the king and queen of an entirely different world at a banquet.

Loki bowed. “Mother, Father, I am pleased to introduce you to my darling Grace. Grace, these are my parents, Queen Frigga and Odin Allfather.”

He pulled her forward gently, almost causing her to trip on her dress. She managed an approximation of the curtsy she’d seen Dagmar give. While she was comforted by a small nod from Thor and the enduring smile from Frigga, she couldn’t get a read on Odin. She supposed that was an asset in ruling, to be able to hide one’s emotions, but as far as social interactions were concerned, it was maddening. “I am very happy to finally meet you,” she said, more to Frigga than to Odin, whose gaze and face remained impassive. However, he did reply to her.

“And we, you.”

With only those words, Grace felt immediately calmer. At least he was speaking to her. Odin motioned to the table, giving unspoken permission for the group to be seated. Loki directed her to a chair between himself and Thor, across from the King and Queen. She appreciated this; between the two enormous princes, she could disappear from the public eye.

The rest of the room buzzed with activity and conversation—likely, she thought, about her. It was probably pretty unusual for a human to be in the palace, let alone at a table with the royal family. Several servants began to bring out generous portions of food—fresh fruits, vegetables, bread, and cheese, as well as platters of turkey, chicken, and sausages. The sheer amount was enough to feed Manhattan for a year. But having lived with Loki for as long as she had, she knew that at least Frost Giants had voracious appetites. She suspected Asgardians were no different.

As they filled their plates, Frigga finally spoke. “Grace, have you enjoyed your stay thus far?”

“Oh, yes, very much,” Grace replied, waiting for either the Queen or King to take a bite of food before doing so herself.  _And they said all those hours watching the royal wedding coverage were wasted,_ she thought.

“And your daughter? Has she found Asgard to her liking?”

“As far as I can tell, yes. She was quite taken with the horses.”

At this, a small smile played over Odin’s lips, almost imperceptible if one hadn’t been looking for it. “Seems she is taking after my younger son.”

“Loki never mentioned he rode horses before today, actually.”

“Ah, well, it was so long ago that he last rode that perhaps he has forgotten how.”

“Well, that seems unlikely,” she replied. At once, all three others at the table stopped and looked up, eyes darting between Odin and Grace. Loki held his breath; she was walking a dangerous line by contradicting the Allfather. Before he could intercede, however, she said, “I mean, it’s not as though there are many opportunities to ride horses in our city, but I am sure that if Loki learned to ride from you, he would never forget how—even just to show off!”

Odin gave her an appraising look, studying her face for a moment, and then let out a great laugh. “My son,” he said to Loki, “for all your ability to deceive, I fear you have been found out!”

The tension at the table immediately broke, and they continued to enjoy their meal. Thor told stories about the brothers’ childhood, and Loki noticed that, for once, they weren’t all embarrassing to him. Thor even managed to compliment his brother’s magical skills with a story about how Loki had transformed himself into a snake and was so convincing that Thor picked him up, only to change immediately back and scare the daylights out of Thor. He had screamed so loudly that the Warriors Three thought he was a maiden in distress.

Frigga asked Grace about her parents and Amy. It was her nature, despite being a skilled swordswoman and warrior, to care about family. “Do your parents enjoy having a grandchild?”

“Very much. I hope that you can meet Amy sometime during our stay. If you’d like to, I mean.”

“I would,” Frigga replied. “I think it is a universal desire of parents to have grandchildren.”

“My brother and I have been great disappointments in that regard,” Loki said.

“Until now, that is,” Thor added with a wink in Grace’s direction.

Grace turned toward Odin. “Your Highness, tell me, did your parents enjoy being grandparents to your sons?”

With a hint of sadness in his one good eye, Odin shook his head. “My father, Bor, was killed in battle when I was quite young. Sadly, my brothers suffered the same fate. But I expect that, had he lived, he would have been quite proud of both of my sons.”

Loki and Thor were gobsmacked. Odin rarely spoke of Bor. He had been a fierce warrior, but had died far too soon, leaving Odin to rule before he was even a capable warrior himself. Beyond that, what little they knew about Bor was from legend. Truthfully, they had always known better than to ask. Grace, however, in her naivety and with her kind, inquisitive heart, had no such compunction.

“I’m sure he would be proud of them, and I’m sure he would be proud that you raised them to be such good men.”

“Yes,” Odin said, considering this. “I have raised two fine sons. A bit impatient, perhaps even reckless, at times. But good nonetheless.”

Thor raised his glass. “Well, then, a toast to our grandfather. To his memory, and his legacy.”

Everyone at the table raised their glasses, but Loki’s mind was far away. He sat silently, gazing at Grace as though no one else was in the room. He looked at the way her hair framed her face, the smoothness of her skin. He thought about the way that her kind, generous, and easygoing nature had quickly caused even his generally humorless, serious father to discuss a topic he had rarely even broached with his sons. Years prior, he would never have expected to have had this change of heart about his father’s feelings. And that, in his mind, made all the difference.

* * *

“That went well, don’t you think?”

Grace rubbed her bare arms to keep warm in the cool evening air. She was perched on the edge of the balcony in his room, which would have ordinary scared the hell out of her, but she knew that even if she slipped, Loki would catch her.

He returned to the balcony with a warm, velour blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. “I couldn’t imagine it going any better,” he replied. “I told you that everything would go as well as we wanted it to. Are you tired?”

“Not really,” she said. “Which is surprising, considering it’s probably past my bedtime, whatever time it is here.”

“We are not so old.”

She smirked at him. “Well, you’re only…what, a couple thousand years older than me?”

“I beg your pardon!” His feigned annoyance only served to make him more adorable. “I am only  _a thousand_  years old, thank you very much.”

She walked toward him and gave him a kiss. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

It amazed him that after all this time, her kiss could still make him feel like he’d never kissed another woman in his life. And over the last thousand years, no other woman had been able to do that. His face suddenly turned very serious.

“Grace,” he said, carefully, as though he had never spoken her name before, “I would like to make something clear to you. I have never seen my father express the sentiment he did this evening.” His arms were in front of him, hands clasped together, white at the knuckles. He was clearly tense.

She blushed and wondered what could have caused her normally confident-bordering-on-arrogant partner to turn into, well, her. “I hope I wasn’t too forward or nosy or—”

“No, not at all. Admittedly, I was taken aback when you asked about my grandfather, but it appears that I, too, have much to learn about Odin. Which seems…appropriate.”

“Appropriate? How so?”

He turned away from her to walk toward the far edge of the balcony, and she followed. “Grace, when I was young, my father told me that I was born to be a king. What he did not tell me was that I was born to be a king of an entirely different realm. As such, I always felt different, but it was because I  _was_ different.”

“So you’ve said.”

“And,” he continued, “when I discovered I was, as I phrased it then, the monster parents tell their children about at night, it changed me. I convinced myself that I should simply live up to that destiny.”

“Loki, we talked about this. You aren’t that monster anymore.” She reached up to touch his cheek, and he took her hand and kissed the palm.

“Please,” he said gently, “please, let me get this out. Because I fear if I do not do it now, I may never have the courage again.”

She pulled the blanket closer around her. “Sorry. Go on.”

“What I am very clumsily trying to say is that because I felt different, like a monster, I never believed I would know love. Nor did I want to. And when my father sent me back to Midg—I mean, Earth—I had nothing left in my heart but vengeance and hatred. Until, that is, I was fortunate enough to meet you.”

She was mesmerized by this soliloquy. It wasn’t in Loki’s nature to wax poetic, despite his voice making everything sound like poetry. “When you brought me into your life and trusted me,” he continued, “not only with your heart but also with your child, even after—no,  _especially_ after you found out my true identity, I realized that I could be more than what I or anyone else thought I was.”

She sank back down onto the edge of the balcony. “Loki…” She wanted to say something, but realized she had no words to respond to what he was confessing.

He stopped and took a long, slow breath, then came to sit beside her on the edge of the balcony again. He took her hands in one of his—the size difference never failed to amaze her—and looked straight into her eyes. “Do you remember when I told you about the Norns?”

“I do,” she said. “It was when I told you about Amy’s conception.”

“And do you recall that I told you that they do not make mistakes? That they control our destiny?”

“I do.”

“Grace, when I said that, I believed it. Yet, I did not truly understand it. But now, I think I do.”

Her mouth felt dry and for no reason at all, her hands began to shake. “What are you saying to me, Loki?”

“I once believed my destiny to be a throne. And then, to be a monster. But in these last two years, I have realized my destiny is to be Amy’s father—and your husband, if you will have me.”

All the breath she had left inside her lungs escaped in a whoosh. She had imagined the moment of her engagement since she was old enough to know what a proposal was. She always expected it would be something cheesy, like on Valentine’s Day or at Disneyland or something, so generic that she could steal someone else’s story, and no one would be the wiser. But in a million years, she could never have dreamed she would be on another planet when it happened.

She wasn’t even sure she’d heard him correctly. “What did you just say?”

“I asked,” he said, lowering himself to one knee, “if you would allow me the honor of being your husband.” She was still aghast and definitely not prepared for this. But there was no question in her mind. He was simply asking her to do something that she knew would be the best decision of her life, something that did not even require thought to respond to. Suddenly, for no reason at all, a hilarious thought popped into her head, one that related back to what Loki had told her about his time on Earth before she knew her. “I do not know if I should take laughter as a good or bad sign.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just—I’m laughing because, well, you’re kneeling before me.”

It took him a second, but when it finally registered, he laughed too. Then, he took a small box from inside his armor—where he had pockets inside all of that, she had  _no_  idea—and opened it. Inside was a delicate, silver band with a single emerald. It was perfect. She couldn’t have imagined anything better.

And as he slipped the ring onto her hand, Loki leaned in toward her for a kiss, but stopped short to whisper in her ear, “In the end, I will always kneel.”


	3. Constellations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took forever to update.  What I lack in frequency, I make up for in length, though.  I worked really hard on this chapter, and I hope that it brings you all a smile, a laugh, maybe even a tear.  We're spending a little more time in Asgard in this chapter - originally I wanted them to be back on Earth, but their vacation didn't feel "complete" so I went back and added some more scenes there.  Also, I've decided Odin is literally the worst character to try and write - he's humorless and I had to add some humor to him, which was not as easy as you might think.  Please enjoy this chapter - I'm already working on the next one!
> 
> Song:  "You're My Home" by Billy Joel

Loki was awakened by the sound of a child’s laughter coming from the bathroom. He was unsure of the time, as he had against spent the evening in Grace and Amy’s chambers, which, to his continued annoyance, had no windows. But he imagined it was sometime after 8:00am, because that was generally when Amy awoke. Stretching his long limbs from the top downward, he felt as though he had slept for years. The evening before had begun as a blur. Dinner had gone by in an instant, and for the most part, hadn’t been particularly memorable, save for Grace extracting a story about Odin’s father from Odin himself. But as to the rest, Loki had little memory. So preoccupied was he with proposing marriage that it was almost as though his mind would not allow anything else to imprint upon it.

Over and over, he had run through what he wanted to say and how and when to say it, all the while dealing with the nagging fear in his heart that he supposed any man proposing experienced—that she might say no. Even though he knew she loved him and that she considered them a family, he had the fleeting thought that she might not want to change things. But for him, simply being Grace’s “boyfriend” wasn’t what he wanted for the rest of his life. And, selfishly, he had to admit another motive: short of legally adopting her, he saw no better way to legitimize his status as Amy’s father.

Just as he was getting out of bed, the bathroom door opened and Amy came out, wearing the towel that had an attached hood with cat ears on it, leaving a trail of footprints in her wake. He scooped her up and went back into the bathroom to find Grace cleaning out the tub, which was still covered in bubbles. He kissed her on the top of her head. “You know we have servants for that.”

“I know, but I’m perfectly capable of cleaning up after myself—and extensions of myself.”

“I realize that,” he replied, drying Amy’s hair with the hood of her towel, “but if you do it yourself, the servants will be out of a job.”

Grace suddenly saw an opening. “Speaking of that, I wanted to mention something about Dagmar.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“You should get to know the people who clean your tub.”

“Oh, yes. What about her?” He carried Amy to the nursery, Grace trailing behind him. She got out a new diaper and proceeded to get Amy into it. Loki was good at many aspects of parenting—even better than Grace in some ways—but he simply couldn’t get the hang of diapering. She couldn’t wait for the day when Amy could dress herself.

Once she managed to wrangle Amy into her diaper, she handed Loki the rest of the girl’s clothes. “Well, last night, I was having a hell of a time with my hair, and I was so frustrated because it was an important night—”

“I do not think it was your hair that impressed my parents, my dear.” Amy struggled against her tights as Loki pulled them on, but gladly allowed him to put on her yellow tutu.

“Yes,” Grace replied, slightly annoyed with his interruption, “but even still, I wanted to look my best, and I was frustrated, and she helped me.”

“Helped you?”

“With my hair. She did an amazing job with it. And because I felt so beautiful outside, I felt more confident, and  _that_  is probably why I was so relaxed.”

“Hm. So, you are saying…”

“I’m saying that she should be more than just a servant.” She lifted Amy from the changing table and put her down on the rug, handing her a picture book. “She has talent, Loki. She has passion. And she deserves a chance to do what she loves rather than what’s expected of her.”

Truthfully, he had never given a thought to the palace servants. They were taught to make themselves invisible, and so most of his life, he hadn’t been concerned with them. But in the kingdom, there was a caste system, and it had existed since before Bor was king. These were all considerations that needed to be taken into account. “Grace,” he began, carefully choosing his words, “I do not know what I can do. While I realize on Midgard, birth does not necessarily determine one’s station in life, things here are different.”

She leaned against the door, crossing her arms. He knew this posture well, and it meant that she was unmovable. “Loki, you’re a prince. I’m sure there’s something you can do. I’m not asking you to change the whole system. Just this one woman’s chance at a better life.”

He lowered his eyes. He wanted to please the woman he loved, of course, but he also did not want her to be disappointed if he was unsuccessful. But then, he glanced down at Amy—the child he wasn’t supposed to have. The only reason he had this life was because Grace had taken a chance on him. She wanted to give him a better life, despite the hardship she had endured. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “I shall speak to Mother. Perhaps she will be able to suggest a solution.”

Grace smiled, both because he had agreed to try and help and because she knew that he knew it was the right thing to do. Then she came forward to embrace him. Although she suspected he would have eventually agreed to it just to please her, she was happy that he actually wanted to help. That did not, however, mean she had to refrain from teasing him. “You know, if you’d just accept that I’m always right, our lives would be much easier.”

He laughed and raised an eyebrow. “Woman, the day I admit that is the day I admit Thor is the better looking of the two of us.”

“Well, he is the  _strongest_  Avenger…”

She gave him a playful grin and turned to leave to take her own bath. But before she got even a half-step away, he caught her by the waist, pulling her back against his chest. He held one arm tightly around her, and with his other hand, pushed her chestnut hair away from her neck. She felt his breath warm against her ear, as he gave it a light nip. Goosebumps dotted her skin, as he smiled smugly. “I may not be an Avenger, my sweet, and I may not have my dear brother’s brawn, but I assure you, I am far more cunning and  _far_  more creative.”

She blushed. “Amy’s still here, you know.”

“I shall ensure she is well tended this evening,” he replied, his voice both soft and firm, “so that I may tend to  _you_.”

With that, he released her without another word, sat down on the floor with Amy, and proceeded to look at her book with her, while Grace was left breathless. And as she headed to the bathroom, she smiled, realizing that although she had won the battle, Loki had definitely won the war.

* * *

“Sneaking off without me, are you?” Grace said, coming into the main chamber still wearing a towel around her hair. Loki and Amy looked like they were just about to head out.

“Not sneaking.” He motioned toward a piece of paper on the bed, which she picked up.

_Darling, I thought perhaps you might enjoy some time to relax after yesterday. Expect a visitor in an hour’s time. We shall return early this evening. If you need to reach me, you need only say my name three times. I love you._

“First, I get not one, but two bubble baths in the span of two days, and now an entire afternoon to enjoy?”

“I know, it is a heavy load to bear. But I assure you, it will be worth it.”

“I’m sure that I will be able to survive.”

He kissed her on the forehead before taking Amy by the hand and leading her out, leaving Grace in the quiet. In fact, it was too quiet. So she picked up her phone to play some music (thankfully, Loki had been able to manipulate Asgardian technology to allow them to charge their phones). The playlist she chose was one that she created during the early stages of her relationship with him—back when she knew him only as Luke. She had been making playlists that were meaningful to a certain time or event in her life ever since she’d been able to use a computer. She had one for her pregnancy, one for her high school years, one for the year she spent in France during college, and now, as the sound of “Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran filled the room, she thought about the first time she and Loki made love. She had been so fearful, and he had responded with an unparalleled tenderness. That was the night she’d truly begun to heal from her ordeal with her rapist.

And then, it occurred to her that once again, something important had just happened, something that marked a new era. “Something,” she said to no one in particular, “that deserves a playlist.”

She finished dressing and making herself look somewhat presentable, but she was only able to start curating a list of potential songs when the visitor Loki promised knocked on the door. When she opened it, the blood drained from her face. “Oh my God,” was all she could say to Frigga, who was dressed as regally as she had been the night before. She wished Loki had told her who the mystery guest would be, since she was clearly not as prepared to be in the company of royalty.

“Hello Grace,” Frigga said. “May I come in?” Grace, still quite unable to form coherent thoughts, stepped to the side and allowed Frigga past her. The queen looked around the room as if she were inspecting it. She motioned toward the wall where a balcony might have been. “I see my son’s wishes were ignored.”

“Oh, please don’t worry about that,” Grace replied. “This is more beautiful than anything I could have imagined.”

“You are too kind. I am glad that you have enjoyed your time here thus far. Has Loki shown you much of the palace?”

“Honestly, not really,” Grace said, almost apologetically. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind.”

The queen smiled softly. “So I see.” It was then that Grace remembered the ring on her hand. She tried to hide it behind her back, but then felt silly; obviously Frigga had already noticed it. Seeing the worry play across Grace’s face, Frigga shook her head. “My dear, Loki already told us. How do you think he came by the emerald?”

Grace touched the ring. “I—well—thank you. It’s very beautiful.”

“My son has excellent taste in jewelry. And, if I may say so, wives as well.”

Grace blushed. “Thank you, your Maj—”

Frigga held up a hand. “Please,” she said, “use my name.”

Grace laughed. “Now I know how Dagmar feels.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, the young woman who tends to the room,” Grace replied. “When I first got here, I asked her to just call me Grace instead of ‘Lady Grace’.”

“And she protested, I presume?”

“Eventually she agreed, but now, I think I understand why she felt so weird about it.”

Frigga crossed the room. She stood close enough that Grace could see that, even though they weren’t related by blood, Frigga and Loki shared the same piercing eyes. “My son tells me you have noticed a particular proficiency this girl exhibits.”

Grace was pleased to know that Loki had already mentioned it to his mother, although she wondered when he had time between their discussion and Frigga’s visit. “She is an amazing hairstylist. She was the one who did my hair last night. I just…” She hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I feel like she should be more than just a servant for the rest of her life.”

Frigga didn’t say anything but led Grace to the door. “Come.  There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Grace followed the queen out of the room, down the long hallway, and around the same corner that she and Loki had turned the previous evening. “Loki didn’t tell me you were coming,” she said suddenly. “I apologize if I’ve been a little…weird.”

“My son is full of surprises,” Frigga replied with a knowing look. “He’s always been mischievous, even as a boy.”

Grace recognized this as an opportunity to find out about Loki’s childhood outside of the stories Thor told or the bits and pieces Loki himself would occasionally volunteer. “When did he start doing magic?”

Frigga smiled wistfully. “Oh, he showed promise quite soon after Odin brought him to Asgard. I was raised by witches and I knew magical ability when I saw it. Loki could conjure his own milk when he was only a year old.”

“When you saw him for the first time, was he—I mean, did he look—”

Frigga, like Loki, seemed to have an intuitive sense of what others were thinking before they could express it. “You want to know if he looked like us, or like his birth parents.” Grace nodded. “When my husband found him, he was as all Frost Giants are. However, as I said, Loki had inherent magical ability. He changed before Odin’s eyes. Even then, he wanted to be accepted.”

“When I first met him, he didn’t seem to want anyone’s approval,” Grace said as they passed the doors to the Great Hall. She hadn’t been any farther into the castle than this and wondered how anyone managed to not get lost.

Frigga placed a hand on Grace’s arm. “Oh, he did. But anger, disappointment…they mask a great deal of one’s true needs.” Suddenly, the queen stopped and turned to face Grace, a brief flash of worry in her eyes. “I know you love my son. But with that love will come many trials.”

“Your Maj—Frigga,” Grace said, her voice shaky, “do you not want us to get married?”

“Forgive me,” Frigga replied. “I don’t wish to deprive you of the joy of this occasion. I only mean to suggest that it is quite unusual for a mortal to marry an Asgardian, or, for that matter, a Jotun.”

“Well, I realize the age difference is a bit unconventional.” At that, the queen laughed. “I love him, and there’s nothing in my world or this one that would change that.”

Frigga studied Grace’s face, and then her expression softened. “Come.”

She walked on, Grace following her, still wondering what Frigga was concerned about. Soon, they came to a set of stairs in a stone tower, and once they climbed them, Grace was slightly winded. A few feet away was another balcony that stretched along the entire side of the palace and to her right was a set of elaborately carved double doors. Frigga motioned for her to follow, and pushed the doors open. They stepped inside and found herself surrounded by the most beautiful jewels she had ever seen. Gorgeous, delicate chains held jewels wrapped in silver bindings. Sapphire, ruby, and diamond earrings lay in trays along one wall, and there were all manner of bracelets on another. She was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of it all, to say nothing of the spectrum of colors and textures and materials.

She turned to look back at Frigga, who was absently playing with her own delicate ring, which Grace assumed to be her wedding band. “I—I don’t know what to say,” she said, in awe of what lay before her. “What are we doing here?”

Frigga stepped further inside the room, shutting the door behind her. “Loki asked me to bring you here because only members of our family can enter this room. He thought it might be something I might like to do, as well.”

“But—why, though?”

Frigga looked around the room as casually as if it were an art gallery. “As I mentioned earlier, the ring you now wear is fashioned from jewels owned by our family. But a proper bride, a royal bride, should have more than simply a ring.”

Grace slowly turned in a circle, trying to decide if she should ask for something in particular, and feeling quite uncomfortable with the concept of being a royal anything. It shouldn’t have shocked her, really. Loki was a prince, after all. But she had fallen in love with the mortal he had become, not the Asgardian demigod prince he was, so she supposed she was still adjusting to that part of him. And being brought to a secret room of priceless family heirlooms was a shock to her system. Seemingly reading Grace’s mind again, Frigga cleared her throat. “May I suggest something?”

Grace nodded emphatically. “Please do. I’m out of my element here.”

“Not to worry,” said the queen, walking past Grace to a chandelier off of which hung several necklaces of varying lengths and styles. Grace silently prayed that Frigga would pick something simple; she had never been one for elaborate jewelry and getting used to having her engagement ring was going to be enough of a challenge. After some thought, Frigga reached up and levitated one of the necklaces toward her. She breathed a sigh of relief. What Frigga had chosen was a thin, shimmery silver chain which held a small teardrop crystal that, at first glance, looked as though light was refracting off of it. However, when Frigga held it out, Grace realized that it wasn’t a play of the light after all. The crystal actually _contained_ light, which glowed a bright, swirling gold. Frigga looped it around Grace’s neck from behind. “This crystal is enchanted, as you probably suspect.”

She secured the clasp, and Grace looked down at it, touching it gently, as though it might break. “I did kind of suspect that,” she replied.

“The light you see within the crystal is the light you see before you.” Frigga gestured to the window on the far wall of the room, through which the golden sun shone. “When the light shines in Asgard, so too will the light shine in it. And when nightfall comes, the crystal will be lit by the stars.”

Grace’s eyes widened. “I can’t possibly take this. It’s a lovely gesture, but I’m just a human,  _and_  I live in one of the biggest cities in the world. What happens if it gets stolen?”

“Shh,” Frigga said, putting a finger to her lips. “You may be a mortal, but you are beloved by my son, and therefore beloved by me. It would be a great joy to me if you would accept this. And as for your fears, the crystal will always be under the protection of Asgard. If it is taken from you, it will return to our realm. It is yours and yours only otherwise.”

That made Grace feel much less uneasy. “In that case, I’d be honored to accept it.”

Frigga smiled in satisfaction. “I am glad to hear that. This way, you shall always have a piece of Asgard with you—with all of you.”

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur, but the kind of blur that comes from not having anything particularly pressing to do, so that your mind slows, relaxes, and allows you some quiet. After bidding farewell to Frigga, Grace had been on her way back to her chamber when she ran into Jane, who had returned to Asgard for a short visit with Thor.

The two spent a while catching up while taking a walk near the river. At some point, she asked if anyone had shown Grace the library. When Grace immediately lit up, Jane knew the answer, so she took Grace to it. It was overwhelming. It didn’t seem possible that there was a library more magnificent than the one Loki worked in, but then, there were many things she hadn’t thought possible that actually were.

“I’m so glad that I can make a reference to Beauty and the Beast and someone will understand it,” Grace had said, to Jane’s amusement.

And so it was that she found herself sitting on an enormous, stone pillar on the second level of the palace, legs tucked under her, the sunlight just starting to dip into the sea, reading a book about the history of Asgard. She had taken several books out, in fact; in addition to the one she was currently reading, she had selected a compendium of children’s stories, a book about the other realms—she was, obviously, particularly curious about Jotunheim—and a selection of poetry from an author Loki had mentioned liking. It would take her months to get through just these books—she wondered how many of them he had managed to read.

Suddenly, as though she had summoned him, Loki appeared, carrying a sleeping Amy over his shoulder. His shirt collar was pulled to one side, grasped in the child’s fist, and his hair was falling over one eye since he was using both hands to steady her and couldn’t push it away. It was in moments like this that Grace felt a rush, heat and chills at the same time. Like she was seeing him for the first time all over again.

His green eyes glittered in the last of the evening light as he saw her. “My darling, I am so sorry we are so late, but we had quite an adventurous day and time doesn’t quite work the same way here as on Earth.”

Grace gestured toward Amy, gently touching her hair as Loki sat down next to her. “I can see how exhausting it was. Where have you been all day?”

“Oh,” he said, “well, my plan had been to go into the market and purchase some delicacies to take back with us, and then to come retrieve you so that we could, at last, introduce my parents to our child. But then, we ran into some children in the square, and before I knew it…”

Grace laughed quietly. “It’s good to know that no matter the realm, kids are just kids. Did they all play nicely?”

“They did,” he said. “We stayed there for quite some time before we made it to the market. I picked up some spices for your mother and a few types of ale for your father.”

“Oh, that was sweet of you!”

He kissed her on the cheek. “It was nothing, at least compared to the gift they have given me.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Do you just keep lines like that in reserve?”

“Would you have me any other way? Besides, your parents were so pleased when I discussed with them my plan to ask for your hand—”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You asked them for permission?”

“Of course not,” he said with false indignation. “You are not a goat to be bartered for. I merely wanted them to be aware.”

Grace brightened. She appreciated Loki’s refusal to abide by social norms, particularly given that, from what she had read about Asgard’s royal family, arranged marriages were the norm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sure they did appreciate that.”

“Shall we get her to bed then?” he asked, looking down at Amy, still asleep in his arms. “Perhaps you can tell me what you’ve been reading while we dine.”

* * *

An hour later, after putting Amy to bed and summoning Dagmar to watch over her, Grace and Loki sat down to a late dinner in a quiet corner of the palace. A small table and two of the same type of chairs as had been in the great hall were in the room, which was open to the air—not exactly a balcony, but more like a sunroom without the windows. When they had sat down, a servant brought two wine goblets full of a smooth, smoky, red vintage, which warmed Grace through to her toes. The first course had been steamed artichokes with drawn butter, as well as warm, freshly baked bread. Now they had moved on to crisp roast duck with a citrus sauce, which was so tender it nearly melted in her mouth.

“How are you not eight thousand pounds, growing up with food like this?” she asked.

“Genetics,” Loki said. Grace laughed. Then she saw Loki’s gaze float slightly downward. “You selected quite an interesting piece of jewelry, love.”

It was then that she realized she had been absently playing with the crystal. She looked at it, and sure enough, it was now a dark purple, with just the slightest hint of white, glittering stars swirling inside. “Oh, yes. Actually, your mom—”

“Ah, I should have guessed,” he said. “My mother always did have excellent taste. That is, of course, why I am her favorite.”

“I’m just glad she took pity on me and offered a suggestion. I was overwhelmed!”

“I imagine it would be somewhat difficult to select anything from our stores without at least a little guidance.”

“It’s not even just that,” she said, taking a bite of her food, almost becoming distracted by how delicious it was. “I’m still getting used to having this ring on my hand. I never did wear much jewelry, and now I have _two_ literally priceless pieces.”

“Ah, but because you know they are priceless, you will treasure them that much more,” he replied. “On a somewhat related note, did you find the library to your liking?”

“I think I liked that even more than the jewelry. No wonder you love books so much. I’ve never seen so many in one place. Especially books about places I didn’t even know existed until now.”

As she launched into a rundown of all the books she had seen, including those she had checked out, Loki smiled into his wine glass. His love of reading was strong, yes—that was one of the things he most loved sharing with Amy—but Grace got downright giddy when she talked about what she was reading, what she had read, and what she wanted to read. As she was telling him about something she read about Odin’s conquest of Surtur—a story he knew well, of course, but he didn’t want to spoil her excitement—something occurred to him.

“Grace, have you read anything about Thanos in those books?”

“Thanos?” she repeated, in a tone that suggested she had not. “No, why?”

Loki had never really revealed anything to her about his experiences with Thanos or his minions. He wanted to spare her the details of how he had come to be what he was when he met her, and, more importantly, he didn’t want to remind her of his complicity in her sexual assault. Moreover, on a selfish level, he was still deeply ashamed of his actions. But now that she was going to be part of Asgard’s history, however tangentially, he had begun to think that perhaps she should know.

“It’s just—”

Before he could finish, they were interrupted by the servant, who approached the table and bowed. “I am sorry to interrupt your meal, Highness, but Dagmar sends word that your daughter has awakened and has asked for you.”

“So much for dessert,” Grace said, rising from the table. He followed suit.

“What is it that mortals say about parenting? Cherish the moments, because you’ll miss them?”

“People who say that are past these moments,” she replied, as they began the journey back to real life.

* * *

The next few days passed all too quickly for Grace. They were filled with walks along the river, a horseback ride—just her and Loki, as Amy was still too small—and another trip to the market, where she bought three gorgeous silk scarves for her friends, a handmade doll for Amy, and her most favorite find, a long, deep purple cloak. Not that she needed it, but the pattern of swirls and stars was too gorgeous to pass up. Before either she or Loki knew it, the last day of their trip was upon them.

She ran her hand over his stomach as they lay on her bed. “Do we really have to go back?” His breath was steady and slow, and she watched her hand rise and fall with the rhythm while Amy played quietly with a stuffed penguin on the floor next to the bed.

“Sadly, we must. I’m quite sure our respective employers would notice our absences.” He looked down at her, only able to see the top of her head tucked under his arm. “Could you be happy here?”

“Living in a castle, with guaranteed childcare and an unbelievable library? Why do you think I asked if we had to go back?” Suddenly, she sat up, propping herself on one hand. “Why would you choose to live on earth rather than here, anyway?”

“I do not choose to live on earth,” he said. “I choose to live with you. And your life is there, so mine is as well.”

“Don’t you ever miss this? Or your family? I mean, I’ve only been away from my apartment and my parents for a week and I already miss them.”

“I will admit that I am more given to pangs of sentiment now than I once was,” he replied, “but my family is also on earth, in our home.”

She squinted at him. “You still don’t trust your father.” It was more a statement than a question.

He stared off into the distance, focusing on the bedpost rather than look at her. “It is not that simple,” he replied quietly. “Odin is a complicated man. We spent many years at odds. Even Thor admits our father made his share of mistakes. As did I. But such wounds are not so easily healed.”

She put her hand on top of one of his. “If you don’t want to go tonight, we don’t have to.”

He shook his head as if he were trying to shake something loose. “No, the Allfather and my mother have requested we come, and besides, don’t you think”—he caught his words in the back of his throat—“don’t you think that they ought to at least meet who would appear to be the only grandchild they will have anytime soon?”

She smiled, pleased that he hadn’t actually taken her up on that offer. Truth be told, she was happy that Odin and Frigga wanted to meet Amy. Frigga had mentioned it at the dinner before Loki proposed, but Grace hadn’t been sure that it would really happen. But upon arriving back at the palace after their trip to his garden that day, they had received word that they were invited to the palace observatory that evening, and that they should bring Amy. Ordinarily, Grace wouldn’t have wanted to keep her awake so late, but this was, to put it mildly, a special occasion. So they gave her a late afternoon nap to head off any exhaustion-related tantrums and hoped for the best.

She suddenly looked at her watch. “Oh, shit. We should get her ready to go. You know how much she loves putting on layers.”

He hopped off the bed and wandered off to the nursery to find appropriate clothing in which to dress Amy for what would almost surely be a rather crisp evening. Meanwhile, Grace gathered Amy into her arms and lifted her overhead to smell for any reason to change her diaper. She had never been so relieved to smell poop in her life. The last thing she wanted was to have to lug the diaper bag along to an evening with the royal family.  _Things I never expected to think about for $100, Alex…_

Fifteen minutes later, they were shutting the door behind them and heading for the observatory. Grace held Amy as they walked; although she could walk steadily on her own, sometimes, efficiency took precedence. “You’re  _sure_  they wanted all three of us to come?” she asked, not for the first time.

“Absolutely,” he replied reassuringly. “As I said, they would like to meet their grandchild, although I realize Odin does not appear to be the grandfatherly type.”

“Oh, come on now. He adopted you, after all.”

“Yes, for a purpose.”

“I understand that, but if he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t have let you bring us here,” she reminded him. “Besides, being a grandpa is different than being a father. Rachel’s dad was an actual drill sergeant, but when she had her kids, he totally changed.”

“Do not take offense to this, but Odin has had centuries to become set in his ways.”

“People change.”

“Not always.”

As they reached the winding staircase that would lead them to the observatory, she passed Amy off to him. “You did.”

She was winded again after climbing what seemed like a skyscraper’s worth of stairs.  _One would think chasing a toddler around would make this easier_ , she thought. She was just glad to have had Loki climb the stairs holding Amy or else she might have passed out. But just when she managed to catch her breath, it was taken away again. The balcony here—did this palace have anywhere without a balcony?—wrapped all the way around the staircase, providing a 360-degree vantage point. In front of them was an unbelievably huge telescope that would make NASA’s eyes water. Beyond that, she could see the Bifrost and momentarily wondered what Heimdall could see that very minute. The sky seemed to have gotten bigger here, and so did the stars, lighting the tower enough that she was able to see Amy, to her left, grinning in delight.

Suddenly, a flash from the other side of the platform drew her attention. Although he was dressed slightly more casually in a white robe embroidered with delicate silver thread, Odin walked toward them with a king’s authority. He carried his staff in one hand, and Frigga’s hand was in the other. She took one look at Amy, who Loki had set down at his side, and immediately broke into a wide grin—the same smile that Grace’s own mother had when she first saw her grandchild. Some things were clearly universal. Odin was slightly harder to read, although both Grace and Loki had been prepared for that. He had the universe’s best poker face.

“Mother. Father.” Loki cleared his throat as he greeted his parents. Grace wondered if Loki addressing Frigga first was chivalry or a subtle dig at Odin.

Frigga kissed each of them on the cheek. Loki blushed slightly, as if he was suddenly a little boy again, both happy and embarrassed to receive his mother’s affection. “Loki, Grace, thank you for joining us.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Grace said. “All of us.”

She felt Amy hanging onto the back of her leg, clearly shy and probably slightly scared. Sensing this, Frigga knelt and peered around Grace, catching Amy’s eyes briefly. “Hello,” the queen said quietly. “I’m Frigga. You must be Amy. Won’t you come say hello?”

Grace appreciated that Frigga was being so gentle with her daughter, although she suspected that it came quite naturally. Frigga stayed very still but held out her hand, and very slowly, Amy crept out from between her parents’ legs. Her eyes were saucers, revealing fear but also curiosity. Loki wondered if perhaps he should give Amy some reassurance, but before he could, Frigga manifested a small light in the palm of her hand that grew into an ethereal, blue bird. Amy watched it, mesmerized, and gradually came close enough to Frigga’s hand that she could have reached out and touched the bird.

“Birdy,” she said, pointing to the light and looking up at Loki, as if she wanted to make sure she was using the right word.

He smiled encouragingly. “That’s right, my darling. Would you like to see something else?”

Amy nodded enthusiastically. He looked at Frigga, who nodded. Then, he bent down and before Amy and Grace’s eyes produced a similar bird from his fingertips. This one, however, was red, and began to “dance” with the one in Frigga’s palm, until they blended to create a bigger, purple bird—Amy’s favorite color. The bird grew larger and larger until it was the size of an eagle and finally flew off into the clouds.

“Magic,” Amy said to Frigga, who smiled back at her.

“Would you like to know who else can perform magic?” Loki asked. Amy nodded. “That man over there.” He pointed toward Odin, who was still standing behind Frigga, impassive but not intimidating.

“Would you like to come and meet him?” Frigga asked.

Amy looked up at Grace. “How about if Daddy goes with you?” she suggested.

That seemed to soothe Amy, who took Loki’s hand. They walked together toward Odin, carefully, as though she realized how powerful he was. Loki watched his father’s face, scanning for any sign that would betray his emotions, but was disappointed. When they were within arm’s reach, he picked Amy up so that she was eye level with Odin.

Frigga, on the other hand, turned to Grace and motioned for her to come forward as well. “You are also our family,” she whispered. “You belong at Loki’s side.”

In that instant, Grace loved Frigga as a daughter loves a mother.

Loki hoisted Amy higher onto his hip. “Father,” he said, “I would like you to meet your grandchild, Amy Rose Lawson.”

Odin took a moment before he said anything, almost as though he was studying the child. But then, he glanced at Grace, who wasn’t looking back at him. She was, in fact, looking at Loki and Amy.

And then, Loki saw it: Odin’s mouth twitched at the corner. His eyes softened, and Loki could swear he almost saw a twinkle.

“Hello,” he said to Amy, who curled back into Loki’s shoulder. “It is an honor to meet the child who made my son a father.”

When Amy continued to hide, Grace smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, she’s not usually this shy.”

Odin shook his head. “It is quite understandable. Alas, it is my queen who can conjure pretty birds and balls of light to coax children out of hiding. All I have to offer is this.”

With that, he thumped his staff on the ground and then pointed it at the sky. Suddenly, the darkness was illuminated as if fireworks were exploding, but instead of colored lights, it looked like a thousand stars crisscrossed each other and then slowly began to fall into the atmosphere. Amy reached out a hand and watched with wonder as one of the stars landed on her palm and disintegrated.

“She actually caught a falling star,” Grace said to Frigga. “It’s too bad she’s too young to remember this.”

“You would be surprised at what lingers in our minds, whether we know it or not.”

By then, Amy had stopped hiding in Loki’s shoulder, so he put her down on the ground next to him. Odin looked at her, then at Loki. “Have you been teaching her the constellations?”

“Not quite yet,” Loki replied, looking slightly embarrassed. “I believe she is yet a bit too young to comprehend—”

“Then it is a good thing you have come here tonight,” Odin said to Amy. “Would you like to learn about the stars?” The child nodded excitedly, and Odin extended his hand to her. She took it gingerly and walked off to the other side of the tower with her grandfather.

“Well,” Loki said, once Odin was out of earshot, “there’s something I never expected to see.”

Frigga smiled and put her hand on one of his pale cheeks. “It was not so long ago that he was doing the same thing with you and your brother.” Grace smiled at the image of Loki as a child. It was too bad that photography was not one of Asgard’s technological advances. She wished she could see him as he was.

Meanwhile, Loki could hear Odin explaining zodiac constellations to Amy, and knew instinctively that she would demand every astronomy book she could get her hands on when they got home. The truth was, he couldn’t have been happier.

“Thank you, Mother,” he said quietly. “It means a great deal to both of us that you and Father have given your blessings to us and accepted our child.”

“As I told you many years ago,” she replied, “you are our son, and we your family. Whose you love, so too do we.”

“Thank you just the same,” Grace said, taking Loki’s hand. “I’ve never had a more wonderful vacation. I’m only sorry we can’t stay longer.”

He could see a slight change in Frigga’s eyes. It was so quick and so subtle that he only saw it because he was her son and he knew her that well. Her smile stayed steady, however. “I’m certain we shall see each other again before you know it.”

Suddenly, Amy came darting back around the balcony, waving her arms excitedly. “Mommy! Daddy! Come quick!”

“What’s up, baby?” Grace asked.

“Grandpa made the stars move! I saw a lion and a fish!”

* * *

“Oh my God!”

“Finally!”

“Let’s see the ring!”

Rachel, Leah, and Stacy were sitting in Grace’s living room, a bottle of wine on the coffee table, and, by their reactions, Grace could tell they’d been expecting this for some time. “Well,” she said, “it was after the banquet with his family and about half of Asgard.”

“Please tell me he didn’t do a public proposal,” Rachel said.

“No, no, it was totally private. In fact, now that I think about it, I think he was trying all day to find a good time to do it. He was acting weird, like asking if I was happy with our life together.”

“Wow,” Leah said. “I’d have been thinking he was going to break up with me.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Well, thank God  _that_  didn’t occur to me until this very moment.”

“I’m just glad he did it in private,” Rachel said. “I don’t want to have to kill him.”

“You mean you don’t want to have to kill him  _anymore_ ,” Stacy corrected her.

“Well, it’s way too hard to find a good librarian,” Rachel replied.

Stacy turned back to Grace. “Anyway, now we need the story of your totally private proposal.”

“Well...” she began, trying to remember the story exactly. She never wanted to forget a second of it, but she had been so stunned that she wasn’t even sure she could remember his exact words. But boy, did she remember how she  _felt_. “We were on the balcony of his room. We had finished dinner, and then used Amy as an excuse to escape. I was fine staying, but I think after two weeks of hanging out with his dad, being a public figure, he just wanted some downtime.”

“Funny, spending time with a two-year-old isn’t my idea of downtime,” Leah said.

“Well, we only went to check on her,” Grace said. “She was still asleep, so we went back to his chamber. He has that gorgeous view I told you about. Oh! I took pictures!” She went to pull her phone out to show them, but Stacy nearly slapped it out of her hand.

“No! Story now, photos later!”

Grace threw the phone aside and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Okay, okay! Where was I?”

“You were on the balcony,” the three women said in almost perfect unison.

“Geez, you’d think this was something exciting,” Grace replied, words dripping with sarcasm. “Anyway, so, we’re on the balcony, and I got chilly, so he got a blanket for me. And I made some joke about his age, and some other small talk, and then he got really awkward again. And that’s when he started talking to me about how he’d never seen his dad get so sentimental—”

“Wait, back up,” Rachel said. Grace realized she hadn’t told them about her conversation with Odin at dinner. So she did, and then continued the story where she’d left off.

“So, he says that thing about sentiment, and then he started to tell me how he never felt like he fit in, and when he realized why, he became the monster he thought he should be.”

“Hence his rebellious, I-want-to-be-king-so-I’ll-destroy-the-world stage?” Rachel scoffed. Leah smacked her in the arm.

“Well—yes,” Grace said, “in so many words.”

“See?” Rachel said, smacking Leah in return.

“So then, he said that when he met me, he had nothing but hatred in his heart, but he eventually realized that his true destiny was to be Amy’s father and my husband, if I would have him.” She choked up at the memory.

“That’s unbelievably sweet, and yet… so unsurprising,” Stacy said.

“Man, all I got from my husband was a standard, ‘Want to get married?’“ Leah added.

“So?” Stacy said. “Let’s see it!”

Grace turned the silver band on her left ring finger so that the emerald was upright. She had taken to wearing it so that the jewel was inside her palm when she left the house, and since she wanted to surprise the girls, she’d left it that way when she came home from work.

“Oh my God,” Rachel exclaimed, taking Grace’s hand so they could all get a better look. “Where did he get this? Is this  _real_?”

“Totally real,” Grace said. “The emerald is from his family’s collection. They’ve got a few that have been in the family for thousands of years. And he told me the band was forged—get this—by dwarves on another planet. It’s made from nearly indestructible silver. Apparently, the only thing that can destroy it is Thor’s hammer.”

“Well, that’s good, since you are the only person I know who managed to destroy an iPhone while it was inside an Otterbox,” said Stacy.

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” Grace said. “Amy threw it under the car, and I didn’t know it until I heard the crunch!”

“Yeah, okay, we’ll go with that.”

Leah poured another glass of wine. “So when’s the wedding?”

“Uh, the more important question is,  _where_  is the wedding?” Rachel said. “Do we have to literally go to the ends of the earth?”

“That would be a hell of a destination wedding, wouldn’t it?” Grace laughed. “To be honest, I haven’t had time to think about it yet. We only got engaged a few days ago.”

“And I guess you have to decide which side would travel better,” Leah said. “How big would his side be?”

“You know, I get the idea that Loki is kind of a loner,” Stacy said. “Does he have any friends out there?”

“Not that I know of. There are the people Thor hangs out with who Loki knows, but I wouldn’t exactly call them friends, you know? I mean, he did kind of try to kill Thor.”

“A couple of times, from what you’ve told us,” Rachel said.

“So, when do you think you’ll do this?” Leah asked again.

“Like I said, I don’t know. I’ll have to find out if he has any preferences.”

“I’m gonna go with no,” Rachel said. “I can barely get him to give me an opinion on the new book orders.”

“He has opinions on weird things,” Grace replied. “Like when I tried to redecorate, he insisted that he didn’t want red.”

“Why?” Stacy asked.

Grace lowered her voice. “Believe it or not, we had a fight about it before I got it out of him.”

“I can’t imagine you two fighting,” Leah said. “After everything you went through together, what’s left to fight about?”

“The same things as other couples,” Grace said. “Like interior decorating.”

“So why is he against red?”

“Well, it’s not even about red so much as red in the bedroom, specifically.”

“Okay?”

Grace looked almost embarrassed. “Have you seen photos of his brother?”

“Yeah, sure,” Leah said. “He was all over the news from the battle footage.”

“And do you remember what he was wearing?”

“Of course. It’d be impossible to forget how insane that armor—”

The room went silent, and then Stacy burst out laughing. “Oh my God, the red cape! You gotta be shitting me, right?”

“Well, would  _you_  want to be reminded of your brother every time you had sex?” Grace asked.

“I’d like to be reminded of  _his_  brother every time I—”

“Okay, yeah, thanks for that,” Grace replied. “I just wish it hadn’t taken a huge fight to get him to admit it.”

The front door swung open and in walked Loki, his right hand in Amy’s left, holding a bag of groceries with the other. “Admit what?”

Grace got off the couch and took the grocery bag from him. “Oh, nothing. Just talking about how you finally admitted you were wrong about who makes the better coffee.”

“Ah,” he replied, while taking Amy’s galoshes off. The girl kicked, trying to help, but that only succeeded in getting mud all over the floor. “Well, you may have won that argument, but I make the better breakfast, and what’s coffee without breakfast?”

“Breakfast doesn’t exist without coffee,” she shot back. He stood up and kissed her on the forehead.

“Oh, please,” Rachel said with a roll of her eyes. “You can so tell you two just got engaged.”

“And speaking of that,” Leah said, rising to her feet along with Stacy, “congratulations! Grace just showed us the ring.”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, Loki. Really perfect.”

He smiled, bowing his head slightly. “Did you expect anything less?”

“You make all the other husbands look bad,” Grace said, grabbing the wine glasses from the table.

“Yeah, really,” Stacy agreed. “It’s not enough that you have an accent and you’re an above average cook, but you have to pick the best jewelry too?”

“And Grace deserves nothing less,” Rachel said. That was surprising to Grace—not that Rachel thought it, but because she said it. Like Odin, it wasn’t like Rachel at all to be sentimental. She was also never Loki’s biggest fan, although she’d grown less cold toward him over the last six months. Even he was surprised at Rachel’s remark, and very little shocked him.

“I know,” he simply said, unpacking the groceries as if nothing significant had occurred. “I am glad to have earned your approval, however.” Where this may have sounded snarky coming from anyone else, from him, it was a simple statement of gratitude, for he knew that it was partly due to these three women that Grace had forgiven him at all.

“And on that note, we will show ourselves out,” Stacy said. She grabbed all three of their coats and doled them out. Everyone said their goodnights—Amy had, by then, run off to her room to play and could not be persuaded to come out, but yelled her I-love-yous from afar—and soon, Loki and Grace were alone in their kitchen, a half-empty bottle of wine between them.

“Did you have an enjoyable evening, my dear?” he asked. “I hope you are hungry. My trip to the market was a rousing success.”

“Oh yeah? What that usually means is that we’re having breakfast for dinner.” She poured a glass of wine and handed it to him.

“Have I become so predictable?”

“No,” she replied, “you aren’t predictable. Only your meal planning is.”

He grinned and took a sip of the wine. “Well, perhaps we should order in.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And let the bacon just sit in the fridge? What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“Certainly not a kosher one.”

She laughed. “So, what did you and Amy do, other than the market?”

“Well, we went to the playground down the street, but it was quite muddy from the rain,” he said, “so instead, we went to an aquarium.”

“Oh! She probably loved that. Did you teach her any new fish?”

“As it happens, she informs me that what I believed to be a clownfish is, in fact, something called Nemo.” Grace burst out laughing and explained to him the Disney movie to which Amy had referred. He shook his head. “Midgardians certainly have active imaginations.”

“Said the man who can cast an illusion of himself at will?”

“I don’t recall you ever seeing me do that,” he replied, putting the bacon into the oven.

Grace, meanwhile, cracked a few eggs into a bowl and whisked them briskly, adding some chives and cheddar cheese to the mix. “Do you not recall Thor telling that story about you faking out Fandral during a party and tying his bootlaces to a chair while he conversed with your illusion?”

He leaned back against the counter and took another sip of wine. “To be fair, I was only 200 years old at the time.” When Grace’s expression didn’t change, he clarified. “That’s about eight Midgardian years.”

She smiled. “Somehow, I feel like you’d do it again at a thousand years old.”

He returned her smile but feigned innocence. “Becoming a parent has matured me.” She merely raised an eyebrow at him, and he caved. “All right, I yield. It was indeed hilarious.”

“There’s my trickster God,” she said. Suddenly, as she poured the egg mixture into the hot pan, she inhaled sharply. He sensed something amiss—so attuned to her body was he that he could recognize a change in her breath as easily as he could when she colored her hair.

“Darling? What’s the matter?”

She hesitated, holding her breath. “Um, nothing,” she finally said. “I just—can you watch the eggs? I need to check on Amy.”

“I can check—” he started, but Grace held up a hand.

“Loki, please!” she snapped, almost throwing the spatula at him as she ran past.

“Grace!” He wondered what was so urgent about checking on Amy that she would act that way. Had he inadvertently said something to upset her? Had she heard Amy cry out and he’d somehow missed it? Suddenly, he heard the water running in the bathroom.  _Ah,_ he thought.  _She must have wanted to clean Amy up for dinner._ He didn’t quite understand why she had snapped at him or been so suddenly overcome with the need to do it. But then, despite hundreds of years of experience, he still did not totally understand women, Midgardian or otherwise. The eggs were about finished when he heard the toilet flush, and Grace reappeared shortly thereafter.

“Is she ready for dinner, then?” He removed the pan from the heat as the oven went off.

Grace gave him a quizzical look. “I—what?”

“Amy. You were checking on her, yes?”

“Oh. Yeah, she is.” She called to Amy, who came walking down the hallway carrying the new doll Loki had given her. Grace picked her up. “Come on, baby, let’s wash your hands.”

At that, Loki stopped plating the food. If Grace hadn’t been washing Amy’s hands in the bathroom, what on earth had she gone off to do? Before he could ask, however, Amy knocked her sippy cup from the counter, spilling its contents onto the floor. Grace put her in her highchair and grabbed a handful of paper towels. “We lead such a glamorous life, don’t we?” she said with a grin as she cleaned up the mess.

He was so relieved to see her mood lift again that he completely forgot about her outburst. “I believe,” he said, “that I have had enough excitement for a lifetime.”


	4. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so excited to post this chapter. A few of you have probably figured it out by now, but get ready for some really big changes. I had a bitch of a time with parts of this chapter - I used half a notebook writing and re-writing it. So I hope that the finished product meets with your approval. The comments you've left me have been so heartening and make me want to write even more, and I so appreciate every single one of you reading this.
> 
> Song: “A Safe Place to Land” by John Legend & Sara Bareilles

“Loki, there’s a patron who needs a few volumes on”—Rachel typed something into the computer and squinted—“baroque literature, particularly Lope de Vega, if you can find anything.”

Loki wrote the subject down on a yellow pad and cocked his head. “That would be in room 315, I believe,” he replied.

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “How the hell do you remember that?” she asked.

“We all have our gifts,” he said. “Where is the gentleman sitting?”

She grabbed a printout and highlighted some of the text. “Someday I’m going to get you to use the computer system.”

“I am perfectly capable of learning it,” he said, taking the paper from her hand. “I simply choose not to.”

“All I’m saying is, then you wouldn’t have to walk around with that dumb yellow pad.” She expected a smartass reply, but he just shrugged.

“Do you require anything else of me?”

“No,” she said. “Let me know if you need help finding anything. He’s in the reading room.” He turned to leave, and something in Rachel’s head snapped. “Loki?”

He spun back around. “Yes?”

“Look, I know you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, and I probably shouldn’t be saying anything because technically I’m your boss, but—are you—is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I have radar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You may be the God of Lies or whatever, but I’ve lived in New York City all my life, and I can smell garbage a mile away. You haven’t given me attitude all day. What’s going on?”

Rachel and Grace had known each other since seventh grade. They met during home economics, while trying to sew drawstring backpacks. They both got F’s on that project but had so much fun failing that they became best friends. Grace had been the one to get Rachel through all five thousand of her breakups and had been the one to encourage her relationship with her boyfriend, Brian.

Likewise, it was Rachel who Grace called after Scott McAndrews had brutalized her. She took Grace to the hospital for the rape kit, and to Planned Parenthood to decide whether or not to have an abortion. And when Amy was born, Rachel was the first person after Grace’s parents to visit her. They had both seen each other at their happiest and their most devastated. So, of course, when Grace introduced Rachel to Loki, she was instantly skeptical. He seemed too good to be true, and on top of that, she had gotten the sense that he was hiding something.

As it turned out, she was right, and it was a big something. At first, she had been furious with him for breaking her best friend’s heart. But she had also seen him open that heart; Grace had lost some of that idealism after the assault, some of her faith in people. Loki had let Grace love again, and for whatever reason, Rachel’s cynicism didn’t keep her from believing in him. Which, she figured, was why she could tell that he was hiding something again.

He became painfully aware that Rachel wasn’t going to let this go. And, truth be told, he didn’t exactly have anyone he could really talk to about it. Thor was on Asgard and he didn’t think he should or could talk to Grace’s parents about it.

“If you must know,” he said, “Grace has taken ill these last few days, and I am concerned about her.”

“Hm. Sick how?”

“It appears to be some sort of stomach ailment,” he said. “It began the evening you, Stacy, and Leah visited, and has been ongoing since.”

“Has she seen a doctor?” Rachel was looking at him impassively, which unnerved him.

“Not that I am aware. Should I suggest it?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll need to. I’m sure it’ll resolve itself soon, one way or another.”

He hoped she was right. It was distressing to see Grace so sick, and, although he certainly didn’t blame her, taking care of Amy had largely fallen to him. Between that, his work, and attempting to care for Grace—despite her protests—he was starting to struggle in balancing it all.

“Thank you for your concern,” he said. “And speaking of that, I am sure the gentleman across the hall is concerned about his research.” But before she could reply, he had gone, as if he had realized his own vulnerability and needed to disappear into the stacks of books to protect himself.

* * *

“Grace, you don’t look so good.”

“Gee, thanks, Tom. If you hadn’t just made partner, I’d smack you,” Grace replied with sarcasm dripping from every word. Tom Lyons had been a senior associate when she had started and, after working together on a few small cases, they had formed a fast bond. He had been promoted to partner the previous month and she had been reassigned as his secretary when her boss had retired. It was a welcome change—she had grown tired of having to print emails and retrieve coffee for a guy who insisted she call him “Mr. Kent.” Tom was mostly self-sufficient and gave her as much responsibility as she was willing to accept, but no more than she could handle. They also had a fairly informal relationship, which is why she could threaten him, and why he could comment on her appearance.

“Hey, just because I’m technically your boss now doesn’t mean you can’t abuse me.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” she trailed off and glanced at him. “Eh, I’ll owe you one. I’m too tired to stand up.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit under the weather this week.”

He leaned against the wall of her cubicle and folded his arms. “Too much vacation?”

“Hardly,” she said. “I think maybe I caught something from one of Amy’s playground friends.”

He grimaced and backed up a bit. “This is why I don’t have kids.”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah, that’s why.”

“Well, that, and I haven’t been able to sucker a woman into dating me long enough.”

“Now there’s an honest answer,” she said. “At any rate, I’m sure I’ll be fine, and so will you, as long as I don’t breathe on you.”

“Even still,” he said, pushing his shaggy blond hair back, “maybe you should go to the doctor, if for no other reason than not passing it onto me.”

“Oh, well, thanks for your concern,” she said.

“No problem. Anyway, go home.”

“It’s only 3:00!”

“You look terrible. Go home. I’m your boss, I command you.”

She sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. But she hadn’t ever liked being treated like she couldn’t do her job. Life had gotten easier in that respect since Loki moved in, if only because he shouldered half the parenting duties like making dinner or reading to Amy at night. She had made more career progress in the last year than she had in the four before that, and she didn’t want to lose that momentum. Still, Tom wasn’t the type to hold something like a stomach bug against her, and she knew she wouldn’t perform at her best if she tried to push through it.

“Okay, you win,” she said, gathering her things. “But I’m coming in early tomorrow.”

“If you’re puking, please feel free to work from home. I don’t have any kitty litter to throw on it.”

“Very funny.”

As she walked to the elevator, she pulled out her phone to text Loki.  _Hey, I’m going to be a little late, can you get Amy from my Mom when you get home?_

He replied almost immediately.  _Of course. May I ask why you will be late?_

She hesitated, debating whether to tell the truth. She and Loki knew better than most couples the importance of honesty. But she also didn’t want him to worry needlessly, which he would no doubt do, even if it turned out to be nothing. So, she split the baby.  _My boss asked me to stop somewhere on my way home. Personal favor._

She waited for a response before she called for the elevator, but none came. Assuming he was busy at work, she threw the phone into her bag, pressed the button, and hoped that the ride down wouldn’t make her as sick as the ride up had.

* * *

Loki looked up at the door for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had arrived home. Even though Grace had told him she would be late, he couldn’t imagine what personal favor her boss might have asked of her that would keep her out this late. He had already given Amy her dinner and bath, and now was contemplating eating alone. He almost never did that, unless he knew she was going to be eating elsewhere, like when she went out with her friends. Now that he had settled into the relationship they had cultivated, he preferred to share his meals with her. For someone who had spent the better part of a century as a loner by choice, it was all the more jarring for him to feel that way.

Amy sat on the living room floor, playing with a set of oversized, plastic blocks that she had received as a Hanukkah gift from Grace’s parents. None the wiser to her mother’s absence, she was content playing by herself, which he both understood and appreciated. She had “playdates,” of course, with the children of Grace’s friends and children she met on the playground. But it often occurred to him that perhaps as an only child, she had grown accustomed to inventing her own entertainment. Sometimes, however, he wondered if she would grow up wishing for the sibling she could never have. By choosing to be with him, Grace had given up the chance at having more children. Occasionally, he worried she would resent him for it, no matter how many times she insisted otherwise. Grace was also an only child and while she never complained about it, she had said on a couple of occasions that she had always wished for siblings. It almost made him feel guilty for having hated Thor so much in the past.

Suddenly, he was jolted out of his deep contemplation by the sound of the door finally opening. As soon as she saw her mother, Amy pulled herself up by the coffee table and ran toward her.

Grace knelt and planted a kiss on Amy’s forehead. “Hi, baby,” she said. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Mommy,” she replied.

“Have you had your dinner?”

Amy nodded. “Daddy made me sketti.”

Grace looked up at Loki. “Did you have  _your_  dinner?”

“Had you been delayed further, I was considering it, but I thought I would wait a bit longer. Are you hungry?”

She hesitated, and he thought he saw a flash of discomfort on her face. “I’m going to put Amy to bed first,” she said. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I will finish preparing it.”

“Thanks,” she said, picking Amy up and heading toward her room. He could hear Grace asking her what bedtime story she wanted to read. It was turning out to be a perfectly normal evening, and yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Grace had barely acknowledged him when she came home; usually she greeted him with at least a modicum of affection. Then again, he supposed she was also probably more tired than usual. Perhaps after putting Amy to bed and winding down a bit, she would be more herself. He poured two glasses of wine in anticipation of dinner and went about the business of preparing the meal. After a while, she reappeared, having changed into a pair of grey, wide-legged lounge pants and a sweater that drowned her in fabric.

While he poured sauce over the spaghetti in the pot, he asked, “What story did you read her tonight?”

“Oh, she just wanted to re-read the first Harry Potter book, for the millionth time. I think it’s her favorite.”

“That was the first book I ever read to her,” he said.

“Maybe that’s  _why_  it’s her favorite.”

“Perhaps she enjoys hearing about magic.”

“Well, after our trip, I know she enjoys seeing it.”

There was a brief silence between them, and then he passed one of the wine glasses to her. To his great surprise, she pushed it back across the counter. “I have never known you to turn down wine,” he said, dividing the spaghetti between two plates. “Are you feeling unwell again?”

She took a deep breath. “It’s funny you should ask. Loki…”

He usually found immense joy in hearing his name from her lips. For so many months, he had heard nothing but the name he was forced to assume during his exile, and it still pained him that the first time she said she loved him, she had used that name. But the way he said his name this time was deeply concerning to him. It sounded hesitant, almost fearful. “Grace,” he said cautiously, “if you are unwell, I do hope you know that I will gladly take care of you.”

She shifted from one leg to another. “No, I know. It’s not that.”

“Perhaps you should see a doctor.”

She realized there was no way to say any of what she had to say delicately. “Well, actually, that’s where I was today.”

“I am confused,” he replied. “I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. Tom told me to go. He thought I might have the flu, you know, because I’ve been throwing up so much.”

“Then why did you not tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry, especially because I figured it was nothing.” Her eyes were overcast, steely grey. “I knew if you knew I was going to a doctor you would spend all evening worrying.”

“I was worried nonetheless due to your extended absence.”

She could sense annoyance in his voice, which momentarily threw her off balance. But she also realized he wasn’t wrong. “Loki, please, can we just take a minute?” She put her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes. Suddenly, she felt a gentle, almost imperceptible hand on her shoulder.

“I’m only trying to understand,” he said, more kindly this time. “What did the doctor say, then?”

The weight of what she was feeling was almost unbearable and she desperately wanted to share it with him. But it was as though her mouth would not go where her mind wanted it to. The uncertainty of the future was too terrifying. And then she looked up into his eyes, green and bright, brow furrowed with concern. Those eyes were the same ones that had gotten her through one of the worst experiences of her life. They were the eyes she had fallen in love with, the eyes of her child’s father.

 _Correction_ , she thought,  _children’s father._

“What did you say?”

She stared at him and felt her heart in his hands. Had she said it and just didn’t realize it, or had she imagined saying something she didn’t say, or had he really not heard her? Her head was swimming. There was no other way, though. That much, she knew. “Loki, I’m pregnant.”

Loki was gifted with a great many talents, chief among them being the ability to remain totally impassive even under the most trying of circumstances. It was how he had survived. He didn’t like allowing others to read his emotions so easily; it was much more useful to conceal them until he knew what his plans were. At this particular moment, he had hoped to capitalize on that gift, hide his reaction until he could sort through his feelings. But based on Grace’s expression, he was not at all successful. “This—this isn’t possible,” he said.

Grace wrapped her arms around herself, in a self-hug. “That’s what I thought too, but it seems we were wrong.”

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “No, it is  _not_ possible. It cannot happen.”

“Well, clearly it  _is_  possible, because it  _did_  happen,” she said. “And how can you be so sure it isn’t possible, anyway?”

His voice raised in shock. “We took precautions, Grace! Unless you neglected to take the medication—”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t neglect  _anything_ , Loki. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work.”

“The odds of that—”

“Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, human birth control is no match for alien sperm?”

His expression darkened. “You know how much I detest when you call me that,” he snapped.

“And I’m not thrilled with being accused of neglecting my responsibility, but here we are,” she snapped back.

He crossed the room, pacing in front of the door. He looked, to Grace, like he was having some sort of mental episode. His eyes were wild, and his fists were clenched. “Grace, you do not understand. This simply is not possible.”

She couldn’t help it; she rolled her eyes. “Just because you keep saying that doesn’t make it true.”

He took a deep breath, trying to regain composure, and to keep his voice down to avoid waking Amy. “All right,” he said. “All right, is there any possibility that the doctor misdiagnosed you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s more likely that I’ve been throwing up nonstop for two weeks because I have a bad case of food poisoning? They did a damn test, Loki.”

“Tests can be incorrect.”

“Why are you so opposed to the idea that I’m carrying your child?”

“Grace, darling—”

“Now is  _not_  the right time for you to call me darling,” she said. There was a distinct sharpness to her voice that he had only heard on one other occasion—the first time they had ever fought, and she had walked out of the apartment.

“I am simply trying to explain to you that there has never been any recorded instance of an Asgardian and a mortal procreating!”

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, that might be relevant, if you were Asgardian.”

His eyes flared, and for a moment, he felt the first flash of true anger he’d ever felt toward her. “Thank you so much. You know I so love being reminded that I have the blood of those monsters in my veins.” His voice was as icy as his skin could be. “And now, now there will be another of us!”

Her mouth dropped open. “Did—did you just say—”

She expected him to immediately regret it and apologize. But his eyes remained cold, face contorted in anger. She felt tears welling but she didn’t want to cry in front of him. Even more than that, she did not want the argument to escalate and wake Amy up. So instead, she just shook her head in disgust, walked to the bedroom, and locked the door behind her.

* * *

He found himself in Central Park, without really remembering how he got there. It certainly wasn’t at all convenient to the apartment. In fact, he realized he had somehow taken an entire forty-five-minute journey with very little memory of it. In fact, outside of knowing he was in the park, he didn’t know exactly where he was. There was a bridge he thought he recognized, but half the bridges in the bloody place looked alike. It didn’t much matter, though. He wasn’t heading in any particular direction anyway.

It was after 10:00 by that point, and the park was nearly deserted. All the better, he supposed, as he was seeking solitude. The evening had gone as poorly as it possibly could have. He and Grace had had disagreements in the past, of course, but nothing like this. Not since he had returned to live with her, anyway. She had locked him out of their bedroom, and he hadn’t even tried to go in after her. The worst part, though, was that he had no idea how to proceed. This was something he had never expected, and so he had no plan to deal with it. The only thing he knew for certain was that she could not be pregnant with his child.

Suddenly, a great blast of multicolored lights shot down from the sky onto the grass before him. The force nearly blew him backward and as he steadied himself, he saw a tall, blond figure standing where the light had been, clutching an umbrella in one hand.

“Loki,” Thor said, “we must talk.”

“Do you ever announce your visits in advance, or must they always be a great, loud surprise?”

“What’s wrong? God of Mischief can’t take a little chaos?”

“What are you doing here, brother? Surely the Allfather didn’t send you.”

“No, I came of my own accord. Can’t one brother visit another simply to see how he fares?”

“You didn’t think I’d actually fall for that, did you?” Loki scoffed, as Thor took a seat on a nearby bench. “In addition to the God of Mischief, I am also the God of Lies.”

“How could I forget? How many times did I fall for those lies?”

Loki leaned against a tree across from the bench. “All the more fun it was for me,” he said. “Why are you here? The truth this time.”

Thor set his umbrella down beside the bench and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Even in the darkness, Loki could see the piercing blue of his brother’s eyes. “Why don’t you tell me?” Thor asked.

“I have no need of your assistance. I can handle my own affairs.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right,” Thor said, a slight mocking tone to his voice. “Out wandering through the park in the middle of the night, muttering to yourself, looking like a madman—”

“I beg your pardon! I was not muttering—”

“That certainly explains why I heard you saying something about all the bloody bridges looking alike.”

Loki was momentarily stunned. Had he really been talking to himself? He felt like he was going mad. “Even if what you say is true, it certainly does not mean I require help, least of all from you,” he huffed.

“Why such anger toward me, Loki? Have I done something to incur your wrath since we last spoke?”

Loki sighed, heavy as an anvil on his chest. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the blood pulse through a very pronounced vein. “No,” he finally said. “Not that I am admitting I require your help, but it is not you with whom I have a quarrel.”

“Then who? Did something happen with father before you left?”

“No,” Loki said again. “Oddly, we parted on better terms than ever in the past.”

“Certainly not Mother?” Thor replied, more a statement than a question.

“Of course not.”

Thor leaned back. “Well, Loki, we could be here all night playing guessing games, or you could simply tell me.”

“I am surprised Heimdall did not tell you himself,” Loki replied bitterly, spitting his words. “That is, of course, how you knew to come. You and that third-rate spy—”

Thor immediately sprang to his feet. “Listen here, brother—”

“Sitting up there watching my life play out as entertainment—”

“Heimdall does not spy and you damn well know—”

“We are not fodder for Asgardian gossip—”

“Don’t you understand that he is simply watching for—”

“Grace is with child.”

The argument they had been having fell to the ground with a resounding thud. Thor looked as though Loki had just said that he himself was pregnant. To be perfectly honest, Thor believed that to be a more likely prospect. “Loki, are you—”

“Certain?” Loki finished. “She seems to be.”

“How?”

Loki sank down onto the grass, wet from the evening dew. Thor sat down next to him. It was almost as if they were children again; what he wouldn’t have given for the chance to conjure a snake to bite Thor. “She went to the doctor, apparently. It would seem our precautions did not work.”

“Well, it’s not as though there is some sort of guidebook on this,” Thor replied. “Midgardian protections against conception are likely ineffective against—”

Loki laughed quietly. “Alien sperm.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing.”

“Loki, forgive my ignorance—”

“I always do.”

“But,” Thor continued, breezing by the halfhearted insult, “why are we out here?”

“What do you mean?”

Thor looked around. “Why are we in this park in the middle of the night and not at your home?”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. “Well, for starters, because Amy is asleep.”

“And second?”

There was a pause. “And second, because Grace has locked me out of our bedroom.” Thor tried to suppress a smile, but Loki caught it just the same. “Oh, _do_  shut up.”

“I’m sorry!” Thor replied, patting Loki on his shoulder. “I truly am.”

Loki sprang to his feet. “I should have known better than to think you would understand. You and your perfect relationship.” He stalked away, infuriated.

“Perfect relationship?” Thor called after him, running to catch up. “Loki, for heaven’s sake, stop!”

“Why? So that you may continue to mock me?”

“No one is mocking you! And if anyone has a perfect relationship, it’s you, not me!”

Loki rounded on him. “Did you not hear me when I told you that she has locked me out of our bedroom?”

Thor took his brother gently by the shoulder to calm him. “I did. Loki, do you not see that you and Grace share a life that I long for?”

Loki was aghast. “Beg your pardon?”

Thor, taking advantage of Loki’s momentary bewilderment, put his arm around his brother and urged him to walk onward. “You said once that you remember living in the shade—what was it you said?”

“Living in the shade of your greatness.”

Thor smiled. “You always did know how to turn a phrase. At any rate, I know that it has not always been easy for you to have me as your elder brother. Perhaps, however, it would help you to know that I now envy you.”

“I thought you said no one was mocking me.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that for as long as Jane and I have been together, she still lives on Midgard and I on Asgard?” Thor asked, but his brother did not reply. “Jane loves me, and I her, very much. But you and Grace have something together that is priceless and of which I am quite envious.”

Loki sighed, rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. A family.”

“You say that as though you are disgusted by it.”

Suddenly, Loki stopped in his tracks and pulled away from Thor. “I am!” he yelled. “I am disgusted by it!”

Thor was slightly stunned. “You cannot possibly mean that,” he said, as quietly as possible. “I have seen you fall in love with Grace, with her child— _your_  child! You mean to tell me how that you have been lying all this time? Do you still long for a throne?”

Loki’s words caught in the base of his throat. “It isn’t—it isn’t about a throne. It is not about Grace. It is not about Midgard or Amy or my ability to lie.”

“Then what, brother?”

Loki rubbed his eyes, which were burning with exhaustion and fear. And then he admitted something, so quietly that Thor could barely understand him. “I am disgusted with myself.”

“But Loki,” Thor said, “you have what you wanted, what you fought so hard for. You—”

“And now I have ruined it!” His tone was both angry and desperately sad. “I have destroyed it.”

“How?”

Loki meandered over to a patch of catmint, lavender blue and only just beginning to bloom. He stood looking at it in silence for a long while, trying to decide if there were words to express the twisting thoughts in his head. “I have ruined _her_. _”_

“What?”

“When we quarreled, I told her that there has never been any record of a mortal and an Asgardian successfully procreating, and she reminded me that I am not—”

“Asgardian,” Thor finished. “Are you concerned for her safety during this pregnancy?”

“It is not simply that, although the probable physical danger she will risk by carrying this child has not escaped me.”

“What more is there?”

Loki hated this conversation more with each passing second. “No matter how close you and I have become, no matter how many ceremonies over which I preside, no matter whether I am considered Prince of Asgard, my name will always be Loki Laufeyson, and I will always be of Jotunheim. A Frost Giant.”

Thor was beginning to understand where this might be headed. “You are more than your parentage, and you know that.”

“My father was a monster and we  _both_  know  _that_. What right have I to bring a child with my lineage into the world? And to force Grace to carry it?”

Being with Grace and becoming a father to Amy had changed Loki a great deal, but Thor knew that none of this had been easy for his brother to admit. He had spent many years fighting the monster he felt he was, and the progress he had made still didn’t seem to be enough for this life event. Thor tried to grasp at some words, any words, to comfort or reassure. “You are no monster, Loki.”

“Brother, this child is half Grace, but it is also half of me. And what happens if the half that is me destroys everything?”

Suddenly, Thor had an idea. “If that is truly what concerns you, brother, then I would urge you to look to your daughter.”

“I’m sorry?”

Thor spoke softly and carefully, as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Amy is half Grace, as you say. But she also gets half her genes from a monster, a  _true_  monster. Do you believe, then, that she will turn out like the monster that contributed to her making?” He didn’t even wait for a reply. “She was created in part by evil, but has turned out to be a loving, intelligent, and, may I say, mischievous little girl, in no small part because of who has helped raise her.”

Loki had never held as much affection for his brother as he did in that moment. It may have been, in fact, the first time he felt as though Thor considered him a true equal, worthy of concern and love.

“I have never seen her quite so angry with me,” he said after a moment.

“Not even when you revealed yourself?”

“At least then she laid into me. This time, she merely left the room. That’s only happened once before.”

Thor winced. “That is never a good sign, to be sure. How long do you suppose she will stay angry with you?”

“Probably at least until she speaks with her mother,” Loki sighed. “Thankfully, Vivian seems to take pity on me a great majority of the time.”

Thor tossed his umbrella from one hand to another. “Well, in the meantime, would you like a ride back to Brooklyn?”

“While I do so love the idea of being launched into the air like a ball in some sort of sporting event, I feel I shall be better off taking a less conspicuous mode of transportation.”

Thor laughed. “I understand. I should return home anyway. Jane is still visiting, and I do not wish to find myself locked out of my own bedchambers.”

As Thor prepared to ask Heimdall to open the Bifrost again, Loki put a hand up. “Thor—”

“Oh, yes,” Thor said, a half-grin on his face. “I almost forgot. Congratulations.” Suddenly, his brother vanished from sight in the same powerful, colorful blast from which he came. And to his amazement, Loki was not only thankful for Thor’s counsel and solace, but for not expecting him to say just how thankful he was.

* * *

When he opened the apartment door, Loki was unsurprised to be greeted only by darkness and silence. It was, indeed, past midnight by then, and since Grace had gone into the bedroom much earlier in the evening than usual, he assumed she had been asleep since he left. He crept in and shut the door as quietly as possible and knelt to untie his shoes. Just then, a light came on, and when his eyes adjusted, he was shocked to see her sitting on the couch, looking as though she hadn’t slept at all. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head and the impression of one of the textured throw pillows was etched on her cheek. He normally would have found her absolutely adorable this way, but her eyes were red, sad, and tired.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he replied. “Why are you—”

“I tried to sleep in the bedroom, but as it turns out, sleeping without you is still hard, even when I’m angry with you.”

He finished taking his shoes off and stood, unsure of where he should go. He suddenly felt like a stranger in his own apartment. But Grace, mercifully, shifted on the sofa and jerked her head slightly, a peace offering of sorts.

He sat down next to her and folded his hands in his lap. “Did you fare any better out here?”

She smiled slightly but didn’t look at him. “Kind of hard to sleep  _anywhere_  without you. And I guess I was just thinking.”

“Well,” he said, “that would make two of us.”

“Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?”

“I would rather you share your thoughts first.”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I was mostly thinking about the night Amy was born. Not the birth itself, but that night, after she was in the hospital nursery. I remember being in the hospital bed, and I remember being exhausted. I was so damn tired, but I couldn’t sleep. Kind of like tonight, I guess.”

“Why were you unable to sleep then? Surely your body was begging for rest.”

“It was. Believe me, I was so physically and emotionally exhausted that I was almost in tears. But it’s just—the room was so quiet.”

“Is that not the optimal situation for rest?”

“You’d think. But try to imagine something.” She turned and looked at him. “That whole day had been so noisy and busy and loud and overwhelming. My mom was in the delivery room, there were people in and out all day, I had this new little person to love, and people wanting to meet her. And then, suddenly, everything just stopped. It got quiet. And that was when I realized just how alone I was.”

His heart was pounding against his ribs. He stared at her, pupils dilated, not knowing what to do or say. “Grace…”

“After you have a baby, you’re supposed to have someone there. Unless you’ve decided to do it alone, you’re supposed to have someone there.”

“Your mother—”

“No,” she said. “What I mean is, there’s usually a partner. The baby’s other parent. And for me, there wasn’t.”

She looked like she might cry, and he didn’t know what he would do if she did. His natural impulse would be to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure she would welcome it. “Why are you telling me this now, after all this time?”

“Because I want you to understand why I’m so upset with you, Loki.”

“I know why—”

“No, you don’t,” she said, holding a hand up. “I’d adjusted to the idea that we would never have a child. I was okay with that. I really was. I’m not just saying that. You, me, and Amy, that was more than enough for me. But then this—I never expected this pregnancy, Loki. And I was scared, just like I was scared last time. But this time, I was also really happy. And do you want to know why?”

“Of course,” he replied softly.

“It’s not just because I’m pregnant again. I mean, if I had no idea what to expect last time, I  _really_  don’t know what to expect now, and that’s terrifying. But it’s  _our_  baby, Loki. That’s why I’m so happy. Because I get to have this baby that  _we_  made, and this time, I thought I wouldn’t have to feel alone.”

She had started crying by then, and he could feel shame rising in his throat like bile. He wanted to help her understand why she had reacted as he had, help her feel better, help heal both their pain. So he took a chance and reached for her hand, praying she wouldn’t recoil. She didn’t. He lifted her chin with his free hand.

“You won’t be alone, my love. I promised you long ago, and I promise you now, I have no plans to leave your side.”

She nodded, tears still streaming down her cheeks. At least for now she felt like their fight was resolved, if not the issue underlying it. “Let’s go to bed. We can talk more in the morning.”

She started to get up, but he held onto her hand, gently pulling her back down. “If it’s all the same to you, I cannot lay with you in our bed until I explain my reaction this evening.”

“Loki, you don’t have to. It’s late.”

“Please.”

He looked so desperate that she didn’t have the heart to argue. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath. “When I was out, I went to Central Park. I wanted to walk somewhere that was familiar to me.”

She half-grinned. “And around the block just wouldn’t suffice?”

“I think perhaps in the back of my mind, I wanted to go to the place that reminded me most of what my life was like before we met. I was angry, and it is easier to be angry when you are reminded of your darkest memories.”

“Did it help?”

He shook his head. “I did not really have the opportunity to wallow. Unsurprisingly, my plans were thwarted.”

“By?”

His lips curled into a sheepish smile. “My brother, naturally. I sometimes believe he still does not entirely trust me.”

“Can’t imagine why,” she said. “What did he want?”

“More or less to ask why I was out wandering the park like a lunatic, talking to myself. It was quite an interesting discussion we had.” He was squeezing her hand so hard by that point that she was grateful that her ring was almost unbreakable. “For whatever it is worth, my brother agrees with you.”

“About what?”

“He, too, believes that Midgardian protection likely could not prevent this.”

“I always knew your brother was smarter than you said he was,” she said.

“That he is.” For once, the words didn’t taste bitter. “To get to the heart of the matter, Grace, it is not you with whom I was angry. It was me.” He expected her to reply, but she didn’t. “When I gave you this ring, and asked for your hand, I told you that I once believed my destiny to be a monster and that I no longer believed that. But, as my mother once said to me, I tend to be perceptive about everyone but myself.”

“Loki, are you telling me that you still see yourself as a monster?”

She put a hand to his cheek. He drew it away and kissed it. “It is easy to convince yourself you no longer fear something until you are confronted by that very thing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I, too, believed and accepted that Amy was to be the only child I would have. And make no mistake, she would be more than enough. I love her more dearly than you can imagine. Even though, and perhaps even because, she does not carry my blood.” He was beginning to lose his composure. “But the idea that I might sire a child who  _does_  carry that blood…”

Her eyes had softened by then, and her heart with them. “Why would that matter? I mean, aside from the obvious physical unknowns that this pregnancy carries?”

It was his turn to cry, and an entire evening’s worth of tears poured out of him. “My father was a murderer. I—I was a murderer. My greatest fear is that I will ruin what we have by creating a child that is half of what I am.”

“Loki, what do I have to do to convince you that you aren’t what you were?” she asked, almost pleading with him. “You’re a lot of things. You are my partner. You are Amy’s father. You are an enormous pain in the ass. But you aren’t a monster.”

“I have been told as much before. The pain in the ass part, I mean,” he replied through his tears. “But Thor reminded me that who we are is who we choose to be, not what our lineage says we should be. Amy is proof of that.”

Grace smiled. “Yes, she is. And this new baby will be as wonderful as you, because it will be raised, in part, by you. There’s no way it could be anything else.”

He hesitated. He had one other nagging fear, and he didn’t know how to say it. “Will you still love me if it—”

She smiled, knowing what he wanted to ask, and she wanted to assure him that regardless of whether their baby’s eyes were blue, green, or the blood red of a Frost Giant, she would love it, and its father, just the same. “If it keeps me up all night?” she asked.

His tears turned to a great smile, spreading across his face and through his entire body. Without realizing what he was doing, he reached a handout and placed it on her stomach. She covered it with her own, and he kissed her.

“Shall we go to sleep?” he asked. “As you said, soon enough, this child will be keeping us both up all night.”


	5. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be my last chapter until March, because I will be studying for the bar exam, so I tried to make it a good, long one.
> 
> I gave you guys a little bit of sexy because, well, I was feeling some kind of way. And I really enjoyed making Odin not so much of a jackass; of course, he wouldn't be Odin if he didn't have "a purpose to everything he does." Finally, Loki grew so much during the first story, but this pregnancy has really thrown him for a loop. It will give both him and Grace new closeness, but also new conflict. It's my hope that you will all feel what they're feeling and take this journey with them.
> 
> Special thanks to Julia B. for help naming the science-y things I created (obviously the Soul Forge came from TDW, of which we do not speak), and to Jeff M. for his help with math and with putting into words the ideas I had in my head but couldn't spell out quite right.
> 
> If you do like what I've done here, please leave comments. I just like knowing people are reading this!
> 
> Song: "Better Than I Used To Be" by Tim McGraw

“Grace, we must go,” Loki pleaded.

“Loki, we can’t. Or at least, I can’t,” she replied. “I already took a weeklong vacation a month ago. I can’t ask for more time.”

He sighed. It had been two weeks since Grace had told him she was pregnant, and yet she wanted to go on as though life had not changed. She was starting to be more like her normal, strong-willed self, but she still had nearly debilitating sickness that deeply concerned him. He understood she had been to a doctor, but the symptoms seemed to be getting worse. “I know you feel it is unnecessary, but I have a dreadful feeling about this. Can you not simply explain to Tom that you are with child?”

She grabbed a box of cereal and tossed it into the cart. “I could,” she said, “but that starts a whole  _thing_  and I’m not ready for the  _thing_  yet. It’s going to be difficult enough to try to make ends meet on just your salary when I take time after the baby’s born. I don’t want to take any more vacation now than I need to.”

He threw a canister of oatmeal into the cart and checked it off the list. “But you _do_ need to take this time. Why is it so difficult for you to understand that?”

She shot him a withering look. “You want to try that again, without the attitude?”

“I apologize for the tone, but not the sentiment,” he replied. “It is not solely because of my concern for you. I am also concerned about the child.”

She turned the corner, heading into the ice cream aisle. She was already having cravings, or at least that was what she told herself to justify eating entire pints of Chubby Hubby. “I know you’re concerned, but I feel fine, other than throwing up three times a day. I’ve been through this before.”

“Not with a half-god,” he shot back. Then, he grabbed hold of the cart and stepped in front of it, blocking her way. “There is no precedent for this, Grace. I’ve told you that.”

She hated when he made good points. How could she really be sure that the baby was okay? Her pregnancy with Amy was fairly easy, not counting the labor. But she had to admit, she had no idea what she should expect with this one. Just because it was normal now didn’t mean it would continue to be normal, and wouldn’t it be better to be prepared? “Okay,” she finally conceded. “You’re right. Let me talk to Tom. Maybe I can fake a family emergency.”

“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be a lie.” He was satisfied with her acquiescence for now. “But please, promise me that you won’t delay”

“I promise. Just promise  _me_  that if they say I’m fine, we can get ready for this baby like a normal couple.”

“I would like nothing more,” he said.

* * *

Tom, of course, had no issue with giving Grace the time off. She hardly ever took vacation time, and he also knew from experience that life had a hilarious way of being inconvenient and unexpected.  _If only he knew,_ she thought, as Loki folded shirts and put them into his suitcase. They had agreed to go over a weekend, with Grace’s parents taking Amy on the presumption that there was an emergency in Loki’s family. Thankfully, they didn’t ask what it was. “Do you think the Asgardian doctors will know anything?” she asked.

He tossed a pair of boxers toward the suitcase and missed entirely. Grace put them where they belonged. “I suspect that if anyone will know how this pregnancy will play out, an Asgardian would know more than any human physician,” he said. “At the very least, they will be more equipped to deal with it.”

“I don’t really like the idea that this pregnancy is just something to deal with.”

“You know that is not what I meant. I simply mean to say that—”

She placed a hand on his arm. “I know. I know, I’m just—now you have me worried.”

Loki furrowed his brow. “I am sorry. I did not intend that. I realize I am probably being overly cautious, but—”

“You’re worried and being careful. I appreciate that. I just don’t want to hear any bad news.”

At that, he stopped packing and took both her hands in his. He wanted his next words to carry as much weight as possible. “Grace, regardless of what any doctor says, Midgardian or otherwise, I will be here to bear the joys and sorrows with you. You shall always have me.”

She sat on the bed and pulled him down with her. “I know that. But I want you  _and_  this child. And speaking of that, we need to have a conversation that I don’t want to have.”

Concern lined his face and flooded his voice. “What is it?”

“I want this pregnancy to work,” she said, her voice cracking. “But if we get to Asgard and they say that it’s not possible—I mean, if they say that I won’t survive…”

He didn’t say anything at first, because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He knew the choice he would prefer, but he also knew that as the person whose body and life would be at issue, she should be the one to make the ultimate decision. “Grace, I am sure it will not come to that. I am sure that the healers on Asgard—”

She held up a hand. “Loki, we  _don’t_  know that. You’ve said it yourself, there’s no precedent for this. And as much as I want to have this baby, as much as it would mean to me to create a life that’s from both of us, I can’t—I can’t leave Amy, or you.”

He tried to hide the relief he felt. “I would support whatever action you chose,” he said, “but I would be lying if I said that I am not relieved for your decision. I would rather lose the life inside of you than lose you—for my sake as well as for Amy’s.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. It would be selfish to force her to grow up without a mother. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, I don’t want to have to make that choice in a panic.”

He kissed her, lightly, reassuring her. “I love you, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you  _and_  this child remain in this world.” Then, he glanced down at her suitcase. “Do you ever pack lightly?”

She laughed, glad for the tension to break. “How long have you lived with me?”

“I will never live with you long enough to understand why you require no less than a dozen socks for a three-day excursion.”

She shrugged. “Ever hear the expression, ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst?’“

“What, exactly, do you imagine going wrong that would require this many socks?”

“We’re going to another planet to make sure I can carry a half demigod to term,” she said. “I have no idea what to imagine.”

He shook his head in resignation and zipped the bags closed. “Now that you are fully stocked on foot coverings, are you ready, darling?”

“Okay. I think I’m good. Do we have to leave at a certain time or—”

“We need only call Heimdall, although I highly recommend that we do so from outdoors,” he said. “The Bifrost, as you know, tends to make a bit of a mess.” He was right. The last two journeys had left Asgard’s emblem burned into the grass.

“I’m ready when you are,” she said.

They dragged their luggage to the courtyard and Loki looked to the sky. “Hold onto me, and your bag.”

“Loki?”

He glanced down at her. “Yes?”

“Do you realize that this is the first time we’ve done this together?”

He hadn’t realized that until she said it. “Ironic, isn’t it, that you have traveled to Asgard for me twice, each time with everyone except me?”

She smiled. “And now, I’m traveling with you  _and_  half of you.”

He looped his arm around her waist and clutched her to his heart. “Heimdall, bring us to Asgard.” Grace looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Please,” he added begrudgingly.

* * *

No matter how many times she traveled via the Bifrost, she never quite got over the novelty, nor could she manage to walk from it as easily as anyone else. While Loki had the ability to strut right out of it, she always seemed to stumble, like she was slightly drunk. Her bag went flying, but Loki, with his quick reflexes, caught it midair.

“Good evening, Highness,” Heimdall said. “And to you, Lady Grace.”

“Surprised to see us back so soon?” she asked.

A slow, almost imperceptible smile crossed his face. “Not in the least.” It was then that Grace remembered that the gatekeeper, with his stunning amber eyes, could see and hear anything he wished in the universe. The thought of that was slightly unnerving, really, so she attempted to put it out of her mind most of the time. She suspected, however, that he knew exactly why they had returned so soon.

“Have mother and father been informed of our arrival?” Loki asked.

She was about to ask how that would even be possible when Heimdall responded, “Indeed. But they believe Lady Grace should rest before any conversation is to be had.” With a nod, Loki picked up their bags and Grace followed him onto the bridge.

“I am not looking forward to this walk,” she said, staring at the palace in the distance. At least this time she wasn’t carrying a sleeping toddler, but the journey was no less daunting. In her condition, she tired far more easily.

“I will deny ever saying this, but it is at times like this that being Thor would be useful.”

She laughed. “Better hope Heimdall didn’t hear that, or I suspect the entire kingdom would hear about it.” Just then, she realized their suitcases were gone. “Loki, where—”

He waved his hand across his body and suddenly, the luggage reappeared in front of them, only to disappear just as quickly when he reversed the motion. “Being me can also be quite useful. How do you think I concealed the ring from you for two months?”

Her mouth dropped open. “How did I not know you could do that?”

He smiled mischievously. “I have many powers you have not yet seen.”

She slid her hand into his as they walked, and he could feel the thin metal band on her finger against his palm. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got the rest of my life to show them to me,” she said.

Their arrival at the palace was just as quiet as it had been the last time, for which Grace, exhausted, was terribly grateful. “Are we going to have separate rooms again?”

“The only reason for that was because my chamber has no nursery,” he replied. “There is no need this time. Asgardians do not have the same moral qualms that humans seem to with regard to cohabitation before marriage.”

“Good. I don’t know if I could be in that huge room all alone.”

As they walked, Grace noticed that Loki was not in his Asgardian clothing. He still wore a pair of dark jeans and eggplant-hued button-down. She wondered whether it was intentional, or if his mind was so occupied with other things that he had simply forgotten to change. Did he have a store of Asgardian apparel here? She hadn’t noticed a closet in his room last time. And she hadn’t worn anything but her own clothing when they were here together, other than the dress he had sent her for the banquet. Did people judge her silently for that? Did they think she was too different, not worthy of the Prince of Asgard? What would the kingdom, and—more importantly—his parents, think about her bearing the newest royal baby? These were the thoughts swirling in her mind as they entered his chambers, which had been prepared for their arrival. The fire was crackling, glasses and a pitcher of water on one of the bedside tables, sheets turned down. She wondered if Dagmar had done this, if she was even a servant anymore.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“I am,” she replied. “Seems to be the natural state of things lately.” When he looked stricken, she smiled. “That’s a thing that happens to women with fully human pregnancies.”

His face relaxed a bit and he manifested their bags again. From one of them, he pulled a case of toiletries and handed it to her. “If you would like to refresh yourself, I will handle all of this.”

Gratefully, she headed for the bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face and looked in the mirror for a long while, studying herself. The water dripped from her chin as if she had been crying steadily for hours. She looked as exhausted as she felt. Although she had tried to soothe Loki’s fears, this was definitely a different level of tired from her last pregnancy.  _Hopefully,_ she thought,  _this is temporary. Very temporary._

She dried her face and brushed her teeth, then came back to the bedchamber, finding him in bed already with a book. “You look comfortable,” she said.

He looked up and half-smiled. “It no longer feels quite like home.” He flipped the sheets up on her side of the bed as an invitation. “But it will suffice.”

She glanced at the slowly dying fire next to her. That was when she noticed the wardrobe. “Was that there before?”

“It was,” he said, “although you had no reason to take notice, I suppose. Your nightclothes are on a hook inside the door.”

She turned to him again. He was not wearing a shirt, which was normal for him when they went to bed. For some reason, however, her breath caught in her chest. The lean muscles in his arms flexed just slightly as he set his book aside, the veins in his hands suddenly more pronounced. His dark hair fell into his face, but he made no movement to push it back, as if he had gotten so used to it that it was simply natural that it was there. He looked so effortless. So normal. So—so human.

She suddenly, inexplicably, needed him. Desperately.

Instead of opening the wardrobe, she walked slowly toward the bed, discarding her sandals and shirt along the way. “Grace?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought I remember you saying you were tired.”

She bent at the waist to push her jeans down the length of her legs, stepping carefully out of them. “Not anymore.”

He watched her, mesmerized by her fluid movements, almost as if she were playing a melody with her body. Usually when they made love, he would undress her, take his time enjoying the seduction. But tonight, it seemed she was determined to seduce him on her own. And, judging by the blood rushing to his groin, it was working.

She climbed into the bed and crawled over to him, immediately pressing her half-naked body into his, kissing him so deeply that it actually took him by surprise. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, unhooking her bra in one motion with the other. His lips crushed against hers, as he cupped her breasts in his hands. Her hand, meanwhile, made its way to the waistband of his pajama pants. He magicked them away; he did not—could not—tear himself away from her.

Suddenly, he flipped her onto her back and climbed over her, long fingers wrapped in her hair. He gently turned her head to the side, allowing him to graze her neck with his teeth. She shuddered, drawing her nails down his back, trying to close every inch of space between them. The way he tasted, smelled, felt, it was as if it was their first time all over again. She wrapped her legs around his so that they were as intertwined as could be, their bodies touching in every place possible. She could feel how hard he was and knew how much he must have wanted release, but she didn’t want this to end. Her body was so alive—every nerve, every muscle, every neuron in her brain was on fire. His breath was somehow both hot and cold as his kissed the hollow of her clavicle.

He wanted to move lower, to kiss and lick and suck his way down her body, to bring her pleasure that would take her to the ends of the cosmos. But something about their bodies tangled together kept him exactly where he was. He was so absorbed in the way her skin felt against his that he didn’t even realize how hard he was. He no longer cared about his basest desires. He craved only what they were sharing in that moment. The physical intimacy of exploring her, kissing her, merely touching her, was the least important part of how he was feeling. In their most frenzied sexual encounters, she would invariably call out his name in ecstasy. In return, as he found his release, he would proclaim over and over:  _You are mine. You are mine!_ Yet in all the times he had been inside her, he could not recall them being this connected to each other—so intimate that it was as if their souls were making love.

She pulled him back to kiss him again, biting his bottom lip, marking him. Her eyes were full of hunger and longing and the brilliance of a crisp, blue autumn sky. Her cheeks flushed a breathless pink as her hair splayed on the pillow, damp with the heat of their passion. He ran his hands up her sides until they joined hers, fingers laced as tightly as their bodies. Without warning, she writhed underneath him in a way that nearly made him cry out for her and craned her neck up so that their foreheads touched, lips only millimeters apart.

“You are mine,” she whispered.

And then he couldn’t think, couldn’t stop even if he’d wanted to. This was the most explosive, erotic experience in all his years, and he had no control left in him. He had lost himself to her, but it was the sweetest surrender of his life. Breathlessly, he said words he never thought he would want, much less  _need_  to say; against her neck, into her ear, and finally while looking directly into her eyes, he repeated them like a prayer.

“I am yours. Yours.  _Only_  yours.”

* * *

Grace awoke the next morning to the light streaming through the balcony doors. They had both fallen asleep easily the night before, too exhausted to shut the heavy drapes.  _Just as well,_ she thought, as she knew they had a long day ahead of them. Besides, waking up to Asgard’s light was much more pleasant than an alarm clock. She rolled onto her side and saw Loki’s eyes just beginning to open.

“Good morning, darling,” he said sleepily. “Did you sleep well?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I think you’re just fishing for compliments. Last night was—”

“Quite different,” he finished. “I do not believe I have ever seen you so…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. There were no words to describe what had transpired the previous night. She sat up on the edge of the bed and grabbed her crystal necklace from the nightstand. Then, she reached skyward in a deep stretch. He watched her back lengthen, the delicate muscles moving under her perfect, pale skin. “Will there ever be a day when you do not become more beautiful than the last?”

She laughed and started to put the necklace back on. “Just wait until I’m nine months pregnant, my ankles are the size of flotation devices, and I can’t walk without waddling. I’ll look like a penguin.”

He crawled over to her, kissed her neck, and secured the clasp. “Then you shall be the most beautiful penguin in all the galaxy.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking in the moment like he would never get another. Just then, he noticed something change on her body, where his hands lay. “Grace, I do not mean to alarm you, and it may be my famously overactive imagination, but is—is your abdomen—”

Before he could even finish, she put her hands over his. “Cold?”

“Well, yes,” he said. “How long has it been that way?”

“It seems to happen in the mornings, mostly. Like it’s waking up or something.”

He got out of bed, magicking his pants back on, and came around to face her. “I should have been clearer. What I meant was, how many days has this been going on?”

“Maybe three. I figured—well—given that you’re…” She stumbled over her words.

“You assumed that a Frost Giant’s offspring might be colder than the average fetus,” he finished. She nodded. “Grace, I am not upset in the least. I am fully aware of my parentage. It is no longer hurtful to me if you bring it up. But you should have told me.”

She, too, got out of bed. “I know, I know,” she said. “No precedent.”

“I do not mean to be neurotic.” He went to the wardrobe, and pulled out a bathrobe, wrapping her in it. “Is that better?”

“The cold doesn’t actually bother me as much as you’d think,” she said. “It might even help during the summer when I’d otherwise be sweltering.”

He didn’t reply, but Grace thought she saw a moment of doubt in his eyes. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. “Would you like to bathe first?” he asked. “After last evening, I feel we could both use a hot bath.”

“You can go first. I’m going to—” Before she could finish, she ran to the bathroom, throwing herself on the floor and hanging onto the toilet for dear life. Loki was right behind her, holding her hair out of her face and rubbing her back gently, just as he had the last few weeks. It was maddening, being so incapable of helping her. He was hopeful that the healers here could, at the very least, alleviate these symptoms and make her more comfortable.

When she drew her head up, he got her a glass of cold water. She drank it slowly, terrified she would just throw it all up again. At first it had just been after she ate. Then it was the smell of food. Now, she was getting sick multiple times a day for seemingly no reason at all. It was also contributing, she was sure, to her exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.

He crouched down to help her up. “You needn’t apologize, love. But I believe you should bathe first after all. Perhaps it will ease the symptoms until we visit the healing room later.”

She shook her head. “I’ll do it later, after we see the doctor. That’s what I was about to say before I puked.”

“Do you feel unable? Because I would be more than happy to assist you.” Just as the night she told him about the pregnancy, she appeared as though she was holding something back. “Grace, I know that look. What is it?”

“You’re going to think I’m nuts.”

He took her hand. “There is nothing you could say that would make me think you mad. Please tell me.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that taking a bath will hurt it,” she said, embarrassed at her own words.

“What?”

“Well, I mean, it’s half-Jotun, right? And Jotuns live on a freaking ice planet,” she replied, sitting on the edge of the tub. “I don’t want to risk overheating it.”

“Darling,” he said, as gently as possible, “I may not be certain of this pregnancy’s complications, but I am quite sure that a hot bath will not harm the baby.”

She was incredulous. “You’ve spent two weeks telling me that there’s no precedent for any of this, and then turn around and tell me you’re sure about this one thing? How’s that work?”

He cocked his head. “Have you forgotten that, while this baby may be half-Jotun, that I am entirely as much?”

“It’d be pretty hard to forget that.”

“And how many hot baths have I taken? Some of them with you, might I add.”

“Look,” she said, a bit frantic, “when I was pregnant with Amy, they told me to only take short, warm baths. Because I can take a hot bath no problem, as a grown adult. But a fetus can’t tolerate it—and that’s a regular human! So, just because you, a fully-grown Frost Giant, can tolerate hot water doesn’t mean a half-Jotun fetus can. I’m worried about even showering in warm water!”

He considered this. “I suppose it would not be unreasonable to ask,” he finally said. “Do you have any thoughts as to what happens if you are correct and even warm water is unsafe?”

“Then I’ll do what I’ve been doing for the last two weeks.”

“And that is?”

“Take a lot of cold showers,” she shrugged, adding, “but if we keep having nights like last night, that might not be such a bad thing.”

*   *   *

After witnessing how ill Grace had become, Loki had tried to delay taking his own bath until after they saw the healers, but she had practically shoved him into the tub. She insisted she was fine and that the hour it would take for him to bathe and dress would have no effect on her health. He decided not to argue but took the shortest bath of his life. Ten minutes after he had gotten into the tub, he was out of it, wrapping a towel around his waist and drying his hair with another.

“Grace,” he called, heading back into the bedchamber, “once I have dressed, we can depart for—” He stopped mid-sentence when he entered the room. She had climbed back into bed, still wearing the bathrobe, and was fast asleep. He stood staring at her for a minute; she looked so peaceful, even though only half an hour earlier she had been huddled on the floor getting sick for what he assumed was the first of multiple times that day. Her hand rested on her belly, as if she were cradling the baby. It pained him to have to wake her, but he knew that the sooner they saw the healers, the faster she would feel better. He finished dressing and sat on the edge of the bed. He shook her gently. “Grace,” he said, “we need to go.”

She stirred slightly. “Hmm?”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Wake up, darling.”

She turned onto her side and her eyes fluttered open. “Oh…” she said, looking slightly disoriented. “I’m sorry. I just meant to lay down and rest while you were taking your bath.”

He smoothed her hair away from her face. “It’s all right. But we really must go.”

She sat up slowly and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I know. Would you be able to grab some clothes for me so I can brush my teeth?”

“Certainly,” he replied, and helped her off the bed. “Do you have a preference for—”

She waved him off. “No. Whatever you think will be fine for this appointment.”

“All right,” he said. He watched her walk, slightly wobbly. “Are you able to make it there without assistance?”

“Yeah. I just feel like I’m moving underwater.”

“Perhaps,” he said, with worry in his voice, “I can request that they come to our room rather than our going to them.”

She smiled, appreciative of his thoughtfulness. “It’s okay. I need to keep moving. Don’t forget, we have a toddler at home. I can’t just sleep all day, every day.”

“You are quite possibly the most headstrong woman I have ever met.

“One of the reasons you fell in love with me, right?” she replied as she closed the bathroom door.

 _One of the_ many _reasons_ , he thought.

* * *

“So what do you think they’re going to do?” Grace asked as she and Loki walked down a long corridor toward the palace’s medical wing. This was a hallway she hadn’t explored on their last trip, but then, she hadn’t had a reason to. “Is there an Asgardian version of an ultrasound or something?”

“Truthfully, I do not know,” he replied. “I have not exactly had much reason to inquire about maternity care.”

She laughed. “I would hope not!”

“I do believe there are midwives who can tell us more about what symptoms you may experience that are specific to Jotun pregnancies,” he said. “I would like to know whether we should come here for the birth or if a Midgardian hospital would suffice.”

“Lord, I hope it’s the second option. I can’t imagine making that trip through the Bifrost when I’m about to give birth.”

He hesitated, contemplating his next words. “Perhaps this is not the opportune moment to mention this, but Mother and Father are going to meet us.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. “Excuse me?”

“I do not wish to unnerve you,” he said. “Mother in particular is concerned, and Father wishes to keep apprised of the matter.”

She was still aghast. “And he has to be there for that? Can’t someone just send him a message? Usually doctor appointments aren’t group activities, and I don’t need my future in-laws in the room while someone is prodding me with God knows what.”

He squeezed her hand. “It will not be invasive, I assure you. They are merely concerned. It is their grandchild after all, and one which has been conceived under extraordinary circumstances.”

“Not to mention it’s the heir to the throne, after you and Thor, right?”

“Only if my dear brother does not do what is expected of him,” he said. “They are not concerned about the implications for the realm, Grace. They are acting as our family, not as royals.”

She remained skeptical but realized she didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. The important thing—the  _only_  important thing—was the safety of herself and the baby, and the only way to ensure that safety lay ahead of them. She let him lead her onward until they came to a set of stone pillars, beyond which she could see a large, glass table and dozens of an Asgardian approximation of test tubes, which floated in the air near the opposite wall. There were also medical instruments that she did not recognize, but that didn’t surprise her.

Suddenly, someone behind them cleared their throat. They turned to find a woman standing just outside the door. She looked around Vivian’s age, though Grace knew she must be several thousand years old, and she wore her hair in a braid that wrapped around her head like a crown. Her face was kind and she smiled warmly.

“Your Highness. Lady Grace,” she said, “I am Leea. I was summoned to attend to you today.”

Then, from behind Leea, appeared a familiar young woman with dark eyes and long, blonde hair. “Dagmar!” Grace exclaimed, instinctively hugging her.

Dagmar looked momentarily shocked but returned the gesture just the same. “It is good to see you again”—she glanced at Loki, slightly apprehensive—“Grace.”

Leea swept into the room, her long blue dress grazing the stone floor. “Dagmar will be assisting me today. As you know, her area of expertise lies in preparing the ladies of the Court for royal events, but the Queen suggested you might be more comfortable with a familiar face.”

Grace smiled broadly. Maybe Loki was right; perhaps his parents really were just concerned with her and their grandchild. “Okay, so what do you need me to do? Do I need to change into a hospital gown or something?”

Leea looked slightly confused, but Loki intervened. “It is a Midgardian robe of sorts, worn by patients in their hospitals.”

“Oh, no,” she replied. “It is not necessary for you to change your clothing, but if you could remove your jewelry, that would be helpful. Then just lay down and try to relax.”

He helped Grace onto the table, and she handed him her ring and necklace. Then she laid down, Dagmar slipping a pillow under her head. She expected to feel cold glass against her skin, but it seemed like the table was heated somehow. She tried to do as Leea said and relax, but it felt like she couldn’t release tension from any of her muscles. She suspected it was because she desperately wanted to know what was to come. While Leea and Dagmar were across the room preparing for the examination, Loki took her hand and kissed it. “My love, I will return shortly. I am going to see about Mother and—”

“Allfather!” Leea exclaimed as Odin marched into the room. She sank into a low curtsey alongside Dagmar, who looked rather frightened. It was clearly unusual for the younger woman to be in the presence of the King. Frigga followed closely behind and went directly to Grace’s side.

Loki bowed his head. “Father. Mother.”

Grace started to sit up, but Odin held up his hand. “Be still,” he said gently. “I must speak with my son and the healers.”

“How are you feeling?” Frigga asked.

“Oh, you know, fine, all things considered,” Grace replied. “Bit nervous.”

Frigga smiled encouragingly. “I assure you, nothing done here will cause you pain.”

Meanwhile, Odin had beckoned Leea, Dagmar, and Loki to the other side of the room for a private conversation. “What have you learned so far?” he asked Leea.

“We are just about to begin the examination. We need to use the Essence Wand and the Soul Forge,” she said.

Loki immediately locked eyes with her. “The Soul Forge?” he asked sharply. “She does not have an infection.”

“Highness, forgive me, but the Forge will not only tell us whether she or the fetus have infections but also will process the data from the Essence Wand. It is not often used this way, as we rarely have occasion to need it for that reason.”

“Is it likely that infection is present?” Odin asked.

“We do not know what we are dealing with, Majesty,” Leea said, as Dagmar handed her a vial of something blue that she then poured into a cup. “We will also be able to extract samples of her existing symptoms to tell us not only how to treat them but perhaps what to expect in the future.”

Odin nodded, dismissing them. Although Dagmar returned to the table, Odin and Loki remained across the room, away from where Leea was working.  _Typical men,_ Grace thought.

“I think they are trying to stay out of the way,” Frigga said, almost as if reading her mind.

“Some things are universal, I guess,” Grace replied. Then she looked at Dagmar. “Do you remember when I said that it would probably be impossible for a human and a demigod to reproduce?”

Dagmar smiled at the memory. “I do.”

“Well, I guess I was wrong,” Grace replied. “Dagmar, I need you to tell me something, and I’m asking you because I know you’ll be honest with me.”

“Of course.”

“Do you think—do you think it’s likely that this pregnancy can work?”

“Well, we clearly cannot know what is possible, much less what is likely,” Dagmar said quietly, but she smiled. “Then again, I never thought it possible that I would be more than a servant until recently.”

“Thank you. And you’ve always been more than a servant to me,” she said, glancing at Frigga, who gave her a knowing look. “It’s just that now everyone else knows it too.”

Meanwhile, Odin and Loki silently watched Grace, Frigga, and Dagmar as Leea prepared the potion Grace would need to drink. “I believe congratulations are in order,” Odin finally said.

“You are not disappointed?”

“Disappointed? No. Surprised? Quite.”

“Well, I always endeavor to be unpredictable,” Loki replied. Then, he lowered his voice. “You know, I told Grace that you and Mother are here out of concern as grandparents.”

“Do you believe otherwise?”

Loki turned then to face his father. “I am sure Mother is.”

Odin frowned. “Do you truly think so little of me?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of sadness. “After all this time?”

“You are my father, but you are also the King of Asgard, Protector of the Nine Realms,” Loki replied. “It is not that I do not trust you. But I do not think it improbable that there is another motive for your insistence on being here. History informs that belief.”

Before Odin could respond, Leea walked past them with what looked like a cup of tea and handed it to Grace. “Drink,” she instructed.

“What is it?” Grace asked as she took a sip. It tasted like peppermint, and although it was cold, when she drank it, it warmed her through. “I don’t mean to be annoying. I just like knowing what’s going on.”

“Of course,” Leea said with an understanding smile. “Tis a potion. It will allow us to see not only you but also the fetus. We will also be able to view your symptoms, which we can extract to determine their expected duration and severity, as well as possibly predict future ones. We had to improvise slightly, however.”

“Improvise what?” Loki suddenly appeared at Grace’s side. She had almost forgotten he was in the room.

“Well, the potion is meant to allow us to view”—Leea hesitated, glancing back at Odin, who nodded—“Asgardian fetuses. We have never had the need to see a human fetus before, or a Jotun one, for that matter.”

Loki stiffened slightly, then looked at Grace. “I am sorry that it sounds as if we are experimenting on you.”

“Honey, I’m having a baby that is only partially human,” she replied. “I kind of expected to feel like a science project.”

Dagmar laughed. “I told you she was funny,” she said to Leea.

“It will certainly make this much easier on all involved,” Leea said. “The more relaxed you are, the better we will be able to observe what is going on inside you.”

Once Grace had finished the potion, she laid back down, suddenly slightly dizzy. “Am I supposed to feel like—”

Leea raised her hands. “You may feel just a bit dizzy, perhaps nauseated, for a moment. It will pass.” Suddenly, a blue, shimmering silhouette of a human body appeared above Grace. It hovered above her, almost like a translucent, three-dimensional mannequin.

“Is that me?” she asked, astounded.

“Yes.” Leea moved her hand across the silhouette. It rippled slightly, and then an invisible screen of some kind appeared in front of Leea with writing and symbols that Grace did not understand.

“Well?” Odin asked, suddenly appearing at the end of the table at Grace’s feet. “What do you see?”

Leea moved her hand again, this time upwards. “I see no sign of infection in her. Now, prepare yourselves…”

Suddenly, the silhouette split. Grace’s image was still there but had moved to one side. Loki heard Frigga gasp quietly, but his eyes were fixated on the portion that had splintered away and was now hovering so near him that he could have touched it. He thought back to the night Grace told him she was pregnant, when he had been angry with himself and terrified that he had contributed to the making of a monster. Even up until now, he had been secretly worried that, despite what he told her, he would not be able to feel the way he should about a being he had helped create. But those feelings no longer existed. The fear, anxiety, and self-doubt evaporated. What he was looking at was no bigger than a strawberry, its limbs fully formed, with the tiniest fingers and toes he had ever seen. He couldn’t tell much more beyond that, but it didn’t much matter.

From the second he saw it, he was already in love with his child.

“Oh my God,” Grace said, without a hint of irony. She put her hand over her heart and looked up at him. “Loki, that’s—we made that.” She began to cry, and Dagmar handed her a handkerchief. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, still processing the cascade of emotions pouring over him. He gripped her hand like he was holding on for dear life.

“I love you,” he said, simply and quietly, and he meant it, more than ever.

Meanwhile, Leea was carefully studying measurements on the invisible screen. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said as she left the table. She returned quickly with what looked like one of those wands they used at the airport for random security screenings.

“What’s that?” Grace asked.

“Your world’s equivalent would be a spectrometer,” Odin said, coming around to Frigga’s side as he carefully observed the floating images. “We are measuring the child’s life force to determine its composition.”

Frigga laid a hand on her husband’s arm, as if to remind him that he may as well have been speaking another language. “You see, my dear, each race of beings is comprised of different energies, which we call life forces. A human’s life force is completely different than an Asgardian’s.”

“Or a Jotun,” Leea added. She moved the wand slowly over the tiny ball of light still floating in midair.

“So this is going to show you how much of the baby is human and how much is Jotun?” Grace asked.

Leea nodded. “This is also the part where I extract samples of your symptoms to examine them. Be as still as you can.” Grace watched, mesmerized, as Leea waved the wand over her image, pulling out bursts of colors that were absorbed into the wand. She suddenly felt much lighter, and much less exhausted. Before long, Leea waved the invisible screen away. “All right. I need to run these through the Forge. Hopefully I will have results within a few minutes.”

“I would like to monitor the progress myself,” Odin said.

“Of course,” Leea replied with a curtsey. They both went back to the other side of the room, having a quiet conversation about the testing process.

“May I get anyone anything?” Dagmar asked.

“No, thank you,” Grace replied, as did Frigga.

Dagmar glanced at Loki. “Highness?”

He snapped back to attention. So lost was he in the wonder of his child that he had lost track of what was going on around him.

“I—oh, no, thank you,” he replied. The truth was that the only thing he wanted was to know what lay in store for them—for all of them.

Frigga, realizing that Grace and Loki needed a moment alone, gently drew Dagmar away from the table by the arm. “Come, Dagmar. I must discuss the upcoming banquet with you while we have a moment; several of the ladies have requested your services.”

When everyone was out of earshot, Grace looked up at Loki. “I can’t believe what we’re seeing up there,” she said, on the verge of tears again.

“Up until now, I believe I subconsciously still doubted it was possible,” he admitted, looking from her to the hologram and back again. Then, he laughed quietly. She was immediately taken back to the first time she heard it. They had been in the park, near Strawberry Fields, and she had made some dumb joke referencing the first night they’d met—she couldn’t even remember what she’d said, but she remembered the sound of his laughter. It was melodious and genuine. And despite the passage of time, she had never grown tired of hearing it. She hoped the baby would have that laugh.

“Do I want to know?”

A hint of mischief sparkled in his emerald eyes. “Oh, I was just thinking that Tony Stark once made a quite sarcastic remark about my ‘performance issues.’ It is too bad he cannot see how wrong he was.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Your sense of humor is twisted sometimes, you know that?”

He repeated what she had said to him earlier. “One of the reasons you fell in love with me, is it not?”

Suddenly, she realized that she felt much less exhausted and nauseated than she had in weeks. She wondered if it had to do with Leea extracting samples of her symptoms. Thankfully, it was then that Leea and Odin returned, expressionless. Before the older woman could say anything, Grace asked, “Do you have to put what you took out back in?”

Leea shook her head. “No. I cannot take all of the symptoms from you; your body will simply continue to generate them. However, for the short term, those you have now will be lessened.”

Loki seemed even more relieved by this than Grace did. “Well, that was not exactly the treatment I was expecting, but it will do, won’t it?”

“As long as I’m not throwing up everything I eat, I’m good,” she said. “Can I sit up now?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” Leea said. “I just need to…” She lifted both her hands in the air and brought them down. Suddenly, the images of both Grace and the fetus disappeared. Grace sat up, feeling slightly saddened at the loss of the image of her child, but anxious to know more about the pregnancy. Leea called out to Frigga, who dismissed Dagmar and returned to the table. Grace was disappointed that she was unable to say goodbye to the girl who had been so kind to her, but she knew this would not be the last they would see of each other.

“So,” Loki asked anxiously, “have you discovered anything that may be helpful to us?”

“I am quite surprised to say that we have learned even more than I expected. Would you like me to begin with the good news or the bad?”

Grace’s stomach dropped. She looked at Loki, whose face had gone pale. She expected him to take the lead, but it appeared as though he was, for once, incapable of forming words. “I—we might as well start with the bad,” she finally replied.

“All right. I should begin by saying that we cannot predict every symptom you may experience. And as I said before, I cannot keep the symptoms from recurring. For the next day or two, you will feel better, but the extraction process is only temporary. Based on what I extracted, and the way it reacted when put through the Forge, you will experience all the symptoms of a human pregnancy—nausea, exhaustion, shortness of breath, and the like—and the symptoms will be severe, more severe than if the fetus was fully human.”

Grace was instantly horrified by this idea; she had barely made it a month with this nausea. How could she stand it for nine months? But then she realized what that meant: the pregnancy was safe to carry to term. “Okay, well… that’s not as bad as it  _could_  be, I guess,” she said.

“That, however, is the extent of the bad news. Are you ready for the good?”

“After that, there’s nowhere to go but up,” Grace replied.

“Please tell me that the Jotun-to-human ratio is at least somewhat balanced,” Loki said, startling Grace, who wasn’t expecting him to ask something like that.

“Your child’s life force is comprised of approximately 70% human essence and 30% Jotun,” Leea replied.

“What does that mean?” he asked, sounding slightly less anxious. Color had returned to his face, but his brow remained furrowed with concern.

“From what we can tell, and what I can predict, it will have the overall appearance of a human, including its rate of growth after birth. To the eye, your child will appear as any other human would. As for the Jotun portion—”

“Wait, back up,” Grace interjected. “You said its rate of growth  _after_  birth will be like a human. What does that mean about its growth  _before_  birth?”

“Ah, yes, of course. The date of your conception was when?”

“The doctor—the one on Earth, I mean—said it was around April 14th,” she replied, blushing slightly as she remembered that there were still other people besides Loki in the room—specifically the King and Queen. She knew they knew how babies were made, of course, but there was something weird about acknowledging she and their son had made one while in the palace. It was like having sex in your parents’ (very opulent) house. Thankfully, neither Frigga nor Odin reacted to this revelation.

“Well, judging from the progression of the fetus’ growth, it seems that it is developing at an advanced rate from a normal human pregnancy. To put it quite simply, it has been six calendar weeks since you conceived, but the fetus is as developed as a human would be at nine weeks.”

“Does that mean I’m going to be pregnant for less than forty weeks?”

“My best estimate,” Leea said,” is that you would be ready to deliver the baby at six, perhaps six-and-a-half months. Which brings me back to the symptoms. While they will continue to be severe, they will last for a much shorter time. Your nausea, for example, will likely pass within the next two weeks. As to the cold in your abdomen—”

“I presume that is from my side,” Loki said.

Leea nodded. “While the child will look human, it will nevertheless possess many Jotun traits. It will prefer cold temperatures and have an increased resistance to injury. There is also the potential for superhuman strength, although that will need to be assessed after it is born.”

He wanted to be sure he understood completely. “But—it will not be capable of transforming into a purely Jotun form?”

“No,” she replied. “That I can say with absolute certainty. Were that going to be possible, the life force analysis would have shown it. I see no evidence that it will have the distinguishing features of a Frost Giant.”

When they first arrived in Asgard, all Loki had wanted was to know that Grace could safely carry the child. Yet he also felt an immense sense of relief in knowing that his child would not have to conceal its true nature.

“If I may,” Frigga said, “would you recommend that Grace return to Asgard for the delivery of the child, or would a Midgardian hospital be sufficient?” Grace couldn’t help but notice that Frigga had phrased the question in almost the exact words that Loki had used earlier. He truly was his mother’s son, just as Amy was, in many ways, her father’s daughter.

Before Leea could answer, Odin spoke for the first time since she had delivered the examination results. “I believe the child should be birthed here.” Loki, Frigga, and Grace all turned to look at him, hoping for an explanation. “The child may be a Frost Giant and a human by essence, but it will be of Asgard, a member of the royal family.”

“It will also be a member of my family,” Grace replied without even thinking. The last time she spoke to the Allfather plainly, he had been amused. This time, she worried he would not be quite so forgiving.

However, Odin had developed an affection for his son’s partner, especially after having met his existing grandchild. “It is not my wish to discount your family’s attachment to this child. You may bring whomever you wish to the palace to attend the birth, and they will be treated as our family. But,” he said, a serious look on his normally impassive face, “I must insist on this—command it—as King of Asgard.”

Loki stared at his father, knowing that there was in fact something more going on, something that had nothing to do with grandfatherly concern. He determined he would find out what exactly it was, but that would take some time and possibly clandestine investigation. But for now he needed Grace to let it go, so he put a hand on her arm, squeezing a warning to her.

She opened her mouth but closed it just as quickly, turning back to Leea. “Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to know that the baby and I are both safe.”

“I am glad to have been of service,” Leea replied. “Is there anything else I can answer for you?”

Loki was about to say no, but Grace stopped him. “There is one other thing, actually.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to settle an argument,” she replied. “Just so I’m clear, hot baths aren’t safe, right?”

Leea furrowed her brow. “Warm showers would be fine,” she said, “but until the child is born, I would strongly discourage hot water. Even human fetuses cannot tolerate submersion in hot water for extended periods of time, as I am sure you know. With even partial Jotun composition, this fetus would be completely unable to, even for a few minutes. A fully-grown Frost Giant, yes. This fetus? No.”

Grace shot Loki a triumphant look, knowing he would roll his eyes and pretend to be irritated. But, his mind on his father’s command, Loki was too distracted to give even the illusion of annoyance.


	6. Transformations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly shorter than my others, but I think it needed to end where it did. The great majority of it is NSFW, but we're all adults here, right? Hopefully, since I marked this story as rated-M? Anyway, I'm going to be studying for the bar exam soon, as I said last chapter, but I wanted to shoot one more out for you guys. I hope I'll get to post another between now and March—it's just going to depend on how much relaxation time I get. Until then, enjoy, dear ones, and thank you for ALL your support, comments, and messages. They mean the world to me!
> 
> Song: "Insatiable" by Darren Hayes

“Well, the first thing we need to do is tell my parents,” Grace said as she and Loki settled in for the night. They had arrived home that afternoon and Loki had picked Amy up from her parents’ apartment by himself. He explained that Grace had, as she put it, jet lag. Vivian had asked if his family emergency was resolved. He had told her that everything seemed to have been worked out for the time being. Thankfully he hadn’t had to resort to lies. Somehow, he sensed that Vivian, like Rachel, had an innate sense of when she was being deceived. “I can see if they can come for brunch on Sunday. I don’t want to wait too long. I’m bound to start showing soon and I can’t hide it forever.”

“I agree,” he said. “We should tell them as soon as we can, so that we can also tell Amy that she is going to have a sibling.”

She smiled. “She’s going to be so excited. She always tags along with Stacy’s kids like she thinks they  _are_  her siblings.”

He picked up a book from his nightstand and climbed into bed next to her. It was comforting to be back in their home. The pale blue walls and paper lanterns lit with bulbs may not have been as luxurious as his chamber on Asgard, but it felt far more like home now. The sheets smelled like Grace’s perfume. Their bathrobes hung on hooks on the door. And on her dresser, there was a framed photograph of him, Amy, and Grace at Amy’s second birthday party. He wouldn’t have traded that for all the riches in Asgard.

“Are you quite tired?” he asked. “If you need me to, I can go to the living room to read.”

“Oh, no, believe me, you could come in here with a floodlight and I’d be able to sleep tonight.” She turned off her nightstand lamp and rolled onto her side, tucking herself under his arm and against his chest. “What are you reading?”

“Oh,” he sighed, “it’s just a volume on astronomy that I read frequently as a child. The library will never miss it.”

She turned her head up to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a librarian and you’re stealing library books.”

He laughed. “It isn’t as if they will assess penalties on me.”

She turned her head back down and closed her eyes. For a while, she was quiet, the only sound in the room her rhythmic breathing. Just as he thought she was asleep, she said something he couldn’t make out. “What was that?” he asked. “I could not understand you.”

“Would you do something silly for me?”

“I would do anything in my power for you,” he replied. He could feel her contented smile against his chest.

“Would you tell me a story from your childhood?”

“I’m sorry?”

“A story, from when you were young.”

“You’re almost asleep.”

“You said anything in your power,” she reminded him.

“Ah, the things I do for love,” he replied, settling down onto his pillow. He thought for a moment. He had never shared many stories of his childhood with her. There was no real reason for this; he simply didn’t often feel the need to offer them and she rarely asked. Then, he looked down. She had her hand wrapped under the barely noticeable swell of her belly. It occurred to him that perhaps she was asking not for herself so much as for their child—a bedtime story of sorts. He had an idea. “Do you recall the story Thor told at dinner about my changing into a snake and stabbing him when he picked me up?”

“Yes,” she yawned.

“Well, he did not tell it exactly as it was,” he replied. “Although he did compliment my magical ability, he downplayed the entire scenario, per usual.”

“Oh?”

“When we were children, we had an ongoing war of sorts, over a few centuries. In Asgard, it is not uncommon for youths to spar, as we explained to Amy, but Thor and I were known to take it a bit far. He once lifted me above his head and threw me to the ground as though I were an empty ale stein. Not unlike what he did to me on top of Stark Tower, actually.” He heard a barely audible laugh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, hilarious,” he said.

“Mmm. Sorry.”

“At any rate,” he continued, “in an escalating battle, I decided to transform into a snake. He never could resist admiring them, which I never understood because I had played this prank on him in the past. That day, I used it to my advantage, because I happened to see him sparring with Sif. At that time, he had an enormous boyhood—what is it you mortals call it?”

“A crush,” she said.

“Ah, yes. That’s it,” he nodded. “So, before either of them saw me coming, I transformed into the snake and approached them. When they took a break, I slithered close enough to Thor that he could see me. As I knew he would, he immediately picked me up, at which point I transformed back into myself and...well…”

“Well what?”

“Well...that was when I conjured the dagger and stabbed him. He screamed, Sif screamed, I laughed. The thing is,” he said, lowering his head, a bit ashamed, “it wasn’t simply a child’s weapon. It was a full-sized dagger.”

She sat up and turned to look at him. “Did you hurt him?”

He laughed. “Only his pride, really. It was the only time Mother ever scolded and punished me harshly. In fact, now that I think of it…”

“What?”

“It occurs to me that the blade I conjured was made of ice. I don’t remember actively trying to do that, but I did, and Mother was horrified when Thor whined to her about it. I had my powers limited for a week, similar to when I was banished.”

She lay back down against him. “Did the pranks end then?”

He smiled and turned out the light, kissing the top of her head in the darkness. “Heavens, no,” he said, and she could sense the mischief in his memory. “Upon the return of my magic, I turned him into a frog and tossed him into the river.”

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed and her grip around his waist slackened. She snored lightly, although he never had the inclination to tell her that. He found it soothing, a lullaby she never intended to sing. And as he drifted off with her, a thought floated through his mind, barely grazing it but leaving an imprint nonetheless. All those years ago, when Frigga had taken his powers, was it because she was angry  _with_  him or because she was afraid  _for_  him?

* * *

“So are you done with the visits to outer space for a little while, or are you planning to change your address?” Stacy had just opened her door to Grace and Amy, who were hand-in-hand on the steps of her Prospect Heights brownstone.

“Believe me,” Grace said, “I’d love to stop getting out the suitcases for the next year or two.”

“How’s Loki’s family?”

“Oh, everything’s fine, I think. Thanks for watching her today.” Grace gestured toward Amy. The little girl was fidgeting with her backpack, which was full of books and a spare t-shirt for when she inevitably spilled juice on the one she was wearing.

“No problem at all,” Stacy said. “You know we’re always happy to watch her. Big plans today?”

“Oh, we’re just having my parents over for brunch, to thank them for babysitting last weekend,” Grace replied. Then she crouched down and put her hands on Amy’s shoulders. “Hey, kiddo.”

Amy glanced up at her through long, black eyelashes. “Yes, Mommy?”

“What do we do at Aunt Stacy’s house?”

“Anything Aunt Stacy says,” Amy replied, looking very serious.

“Exactly. Hugs and kisses?”

Amy threw herself into her mother’s arms, nearly knocking Grace over the in the process. Grace gave her five or six quick kisses on her pink, chubby cheeks, when Stacy’s kids, Paul Jr. and Chloe, appeared in the hallway behind their mother. Amy took off after them, laughing with abandon.

Stacy laughed and helped Grace to her feet. “Well, I guess I know where I stand.”

“Believe me, whenever she has a choice between Loki or me reading her a bedtime story, I get the same treatment.”

“What time do you want to pick her up? I was thinking of taking them to the park to tire them out.”

“Oh, that would be perfect, actually. Maybe around five o’clock if that’s not an issue?”

“Not at all,” Stacy said. “Now, go enjoy some adult conversation while I listen to the Frozen soundtrack for the millionth time.”

“Isn’t that movie like, two years old now?”

“And it’s been on rotation for”—Stacy checked her watch—“oh, two years now.”

They laughed and said goodbye. Then, Grace headed back home, leaving one child with her surrogate aunt and carrying the other directly under her heart.

* * *

Meanwhile, Loki had just finished braiding the ropes of dough for the bread. He had seen Grace make it so many times that he had said he could do it without even needing a cookbook. He should have realized that she would call his bluff, and his ego wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat. And so it was that he was putting the loaf of bread into the oven when she walked through the door.

“Well, it doesn’t smell like you’ve burned anything,” she said, “so I already consider this a success.”

“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed. “How many meals have I prepared for you?”

She entered the kitchen and bent over to look through the oven. “Several, but none of them involved baking.”

He slapped her playfully on the rear. “Just because you have not seen me do something does not mean I am incapable of it.”

She stood up and turned toward him, arms crossed, considering him for a moment. “That’s probably true,” she finally said, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Well, if you think of any new skills you’d like to show me, I’m going to be in the shower…”

With that, she left the kitchen and headed down the hallway. A moment later, he heard the water turn on. He looked at the closed bathroom door, then back at the oven timer. Forty-five minutes, it read. A wicked smile washed over his face and he decided that he, too, could use a shower.

When he entered the bathroom, she was already behind the curtain, humming a tune unknown to him. He stripped off his clothes and cleared his throat, knowing from experience that she tended to startle easily. She stopped humming and pulled the curtain aside just enough to signal an invitation. As he stepped in, he drew in a sharp breath, taking in the beauty of her neck, down her back, to the curve of her rear and the length of her legs. Her wet hair draped over one shoulder as she turned around to face him. His eyes immediately dropped to her breasts, which seemed to have doubled in size overnight. She followed his gaze downward and a slow smile played across her lips.

She pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Something interesting?” she asked. He approached her like an animal about to pounce upon its prey. Which, he knew, was exactly what she intended. She grabbed him and pulled him under the stream of water with her.

“What has gotten into you that has made you so...affectionate?” he asked.

She wrapped one hand through his hair, and the other around his erection. She never would understand how he could get so aroused so fast. “Well,” she said, “remember how Leea said that all my symptoms would be more severe than a normal pregnancy?”

He groaned, low and deep in his throat as she tightened her grip on him. “I do.”

She smiled at the noises he made, knowing she was causing them. “Good thing for you, this pregnancy apparently makes me need sex like crazy.”

That was music to his ears. He pushed her against the wall, pinning her shoulders to it with his hands, and kissed her hard on the mouth. It still amazed him that she allowed him this, after all she had been through, but she trusted him and knew he would never harm or force her.

“You mean good thing for  _you_ ,” he said, voice dark and heady. He kissed the side of her jaw, down to a spot on her neck where he knew would cause heat to pool between her thighs. “Isn’t that what you meant, my love?”

She licked her lips and felt something in her stomach tighten as he pressed his body against hers. “Maybe good thing for both of us?” she finally managed to whisper.

He kissed her again, letting his tongue slide along her lips as he pulled away. “And what do you suppose gives me the most pleasure, hmm?” he asked. “Perhaps I should show you?”

“Perhaps you should,” she replied, freeing herself of his grip just enough to grasp at his shoulders. His hair dripped water onto her breasts as he kissed his way down her body. And then finally, he was on his knees in front of her, staring up at her hungrily.

“I would love to spend the entire afternoon licking the water from every inch of your skin,” he said, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, “but as we are, you might say, ‘on the clock,’ I believe I will focus my efforts on just one part of you.”

Before she could respond, he pressed his mouth to her, licking a path from back to front. But although he had done this to her what seemed like hundreds of times, this time made her gasp in shock. His tongue felt ice cold, which would have been painful if not for the fact that his breath was somehow still warm. He squeezed the flesh of her thighs, trying to maintain the focus he needed to do what he was doing to her, wondering if she could see it. He could feel her body tensing above him, the calf over his shoulder pressing into his back. One of his hands left her thigh and traveled further inward, until his fingers found her entrance. He slowly—agonizingly slowly, in her opinion—slid two of them inside her as he pulled his mouth away.

She bit back a sob. “Why did you stop?!”

“My sweet little minx,” he purred, ignoring her question, “even if we were not already wet,  _you_  would be.” He kissed the inside of her thighs again, working his way back to her center, tongue still cold against her flesh. The fingers inside her moved, curling against one spot that almost made her come undone right there, grinding against his mouth. That was when she glanced down and saw it—the faintest shade of blue tinted his normally pale skin, with patterned ridges visible under the surface.

She gasped, not in shock of what she saw, but of how utterly, insanely good what he was doing felt. Every time she thought he couldn’t make sex better, he somehow found a way. Whether it was how he looked at her, or the movements he made against her, or some new position, or even just the way he spoke to her, each time felt more satisfying than the last.

Sometimes she felt like Loki was fate’s way of making up for what had happened to her body. Or maybe Loki was trying to make up for it himself.

Either way, she was currently focused on the lascivious way he was sucking on her. She felt her knees start to tremble. But before he could finish her off, she pushed him away and grabbed hold of his hair, pulling his head back. He was clearly taken by surprise. The blue glow faded away, as did the ridges in his forehead.

“No,” she said. “I want to feel you.”

He grinned, wiping his chin as he stood up. “Feel me...where?” he asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear. It gave him immense pleasure to hear her tell him what she wanted from him.

She gasped, shivering against the rumble of his voice. “I—I want—”

“Where do you want to feel”—he took her hand and placed it around his erection again—“me?”

She squinted playfully at him, smiled, and turned around to face the back wall of the shower. She bent at the waist, knowing how much he would enjoy this view. His hands roamed over the curve of her spine and settled on her ass, squeezing the flesh, watching her move under his touch. If they had not been in such a slippery environment, he might have even spanked her, but he didn’t want to risk it.

And then she looked over her shoulder at him, pupils so dilated that he could barely see anything but blue.

“I want you to fuck me,” she finally said, giving him what he wanted. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back toward him. He entered her slowly, tenderly, effortlessly. But as soon as he had filled her, he pulled back out, just as slowly and deliberately. She let out a sound that resembled something between a pant and a whine.

“I’m sorry, is something amiss?” he asked with a smile.

“Tease,” she growled.

“Not for long,” he replied, and this time, he drove back into her to the hilt, hitting every single spot she craved. He stayed pressed against her, moving his hips just so, until he heard her mewling, trying to get him to give her more. But he wouldn’t—not until she said one more, very specific thing. He again withdrew almost completely, and she gasped, aching for the fullness she felt with him inside her.

“ _Damn you_ ,” she said through gritted teeth. She heard a dark laugh behind her.

“If you want more, you know how to get it,” he said, and, though his voice was low and breathy, she could hear the power in it. It wouldn’t take much to bring her to the finish, but she also knew he wouldn’t let her have it until she did as he asked. She felt like she might actually explode from need. His arm wrapped underneath her, long fingers lightly stroking back and forth between her thighs. “I  _know_  you know. All you need to do is—”

“Loki,” she finally cried, trying to get his fingers where she wanted them, “make me yours!”

That did it. He slammed back into her, over and over again, watching her breasts bounce underneath her with each movement. And he gave her what she’d begged for, rubbing the tiny bundle of nerves between her thighs, feeling her wetness cover his hand even with him inside her. He was trying to hold out until she screamed for him. It wasn’t easy; she was so unbelievably tight, even after all this time.

“You _will_ come for me, Grace, and  _only_  for me,” he ordered, increasing his grip on her hips. Thankfully, she had been so close for so long that it only took a few well-timed thrusts for her to start chanting all manner of obscenities. He tumbled along after her, unable to resist the pleasure of her muscles constricting around him. He bent forward and bit her shoulder, her name on his lips, over and over. She nearly collapsed, but he caught her, as she knew he always would. When she felt him soften and ease out of her, she turned in his arms. She watched his chest rise and fall, muscles twitching with exhaustion. But his eyes were still full of passion, even after his release.

He pushed her hair back from her face, grabbed her bottle of shampoo, and squeezed some into his palm. The lather easily formed as he ran his hands through the strands, gently separating them as he worked. It wasn’t often that they got to shower together, but this was something he loved doing every chance he got. The same fingers that had made her come undone just moments earlier now massaged the back of her head. She thought she might dissolve under his touch, but then realized that something inside her already had.

* * *

A few minutes later, they were standing in their bedroom, drying off and getting dressed as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. But for Grace, something very unusual _had_ happened, and she was trying to figure out a way to express it without breaking down. Her parents would be there in an hour or so, and she did not want to have to explain red, puffy eyes. As she finished pulling on her jeans, she turned to look at him. He was just pulling a shirt over his head, hair already halfway dry, and gave her the smile she loved so much.

Suddenly, her heart swelled with the realization of the depth of their love. The raw sexual energy between them could transform into gentle, loving gestures in the blink of an eye. He could be feral and almost rough, but she knew underneath that lived the real Loki—the one who loved doing something as tender as washing her hair for her and who could make her melt with a lopsided, impish grin.

“Do you know how much I love you?” she asked, a certain intensity to her voice that he had not heard in months.

He sat down on the bed to put his socks on. “I would like to think so.”

She sat down next to him and waited until he finished to continue. “Do you realize that what we just did—and how we did it—was something we’ve never done before?”

It had indeed occurred to him that in all these months, they had not had relations in that manner. They had experimented in all sorts of other ways, but for some reason, Grace had never seemed open to that particular position. He always assumed that it simply was not enjoyable for her, and he did not feel the need to push the issue—there were a multitude of other ways they could enjoy one another.

“Now that you mention it, yes, that would seem to be the case. Why do you bring it up?”

“The reason I’ve never wanted to do that before with you isn’t because I didn’t  _want_  to do it,” she said, tears in her eyes. “It was because I’d done it  _before_.”

His eyes widened. She did not need to explain further for him to understand what she was telling him. “Oh, my love…” He took her into his arms and felt her press her cheek to his shoulder, trying to convey with his body what his lips would not allow him to say. “We did not have to—”

“I know we didn’t have to. That’s exactly why I wanted to. It was the last broken thing, and you’re the only person who could help me fix it. I’m carrying your child. I wanted to be a whole person again before it’s born.” She looked away from him, as though saying the words aloud made their meaning sound ridiculous.

He took her chin in his hand and gently brought her face back in his direction. His gaze was now more intense than hers had been. “I want you to understand something, Grace. You are already whole, and I know this because I fell in love with the whole of you. But,” he said, kissing her hand, “I am happy to have replaced that memory with one that you might look more fondly upon.”

She smiled then, and he kissed her on the mouth, as if to sear the memory in her mind forever. Then, she realized she had something else she wanted to ask. “Speaking of memories, I’m not going to forget what you were doing while you were on your knees for a  _long_  time. What was that?”

He shrugged. “I learned long ago that, while I may not always be able to control my Jotun form from appearing—as it did in that alley—I am able to summon it when and how I choose.”

“So you...turned?”

The impish grin returned to his face. “I did. Or, at least, my mouth did.”

Although she knew he was trying to bring levity to their conversation, she remained serious. “But why? You hate your Jotun form.”

“I do not mind so much when I am in control of it. Besides,” he continued, with a wave of his hand, “ _you_  were the one who asked me to join you if I had any new skills I wanted to show you.  _I_  merely took you at your word.”


End file.
